Those who forget the past
by Colonel Frosting
Summary: Another year at Saint Gloriana, another year of matches to be fought. Every school has bad years, however, and there's one bad year which nobody hopes will happen again.
1. Examinations

Roaming the seas of the Pacific on its standard route would have been one of the handful of massive supercarrier school ships built by Japan. Ships built for a myriad of reasons which vary depending on who one asks about it. At the moment, the new year was underway, students transferring to and from the large vessels en masse in some cases as they move on in their lives. Either arriving at these ships for the first time to attend as a student or contribute to the community otherwise, or leaving as a graduate for greener pastures. For plenty more, it was just the start of another new academic year. Especially those returning for another season of Sensha-do.

On the school ship servicing Saint Gloriana Women's Academy, a select number of students were getting a somewhat more in-depth medical examination than the rest. A more or less clean bill of health was required for any would-be student to attend the school, and that required a yearly examination. However, the health requirements and tests called for by any athletes planning to also participate in Sensha-do were different enough that those who had picked the elective were examined twice in total. Once for entry into the school at all, and once more to be verified healthy enough for safe participation in the sport. The choice was one of many in the tower of duct tape that was the rules and regulations of the Japanese Sensha-do Federation. Not that anyone would make a big stink about it, given it was all in the name of safety in a combination of proactive and retroactive alterations to that end.

Given the central focus of the school and students above all others to any school ship, health checkups and full examinations of Sensha-do team members were preformed not just by the regular medical doctors that worked at the on-ship hospital, but by the head doctor themself. In the case of Saint Gloriana, a gentleman by the name of Victor Koveryn. He was a somewhat tall and thin man who was in decent lean shape for his age, not looking much past his early thirties or late twenties in spite of pushing forty. Being in the field as soon as he was able had the benefits of knowledge which allowed him to maintain such a physique, even if it was a pretty average one.

The doctor was on the actual school campus for this secondary examination, which thankfully had a decidedly smaller list of patients to look over as well as plenty of familiar faces to boot. While the bulk of the prior primary examination was done at the actual hospital, it was much more convenient for just about everyone involved to perform secondary examinations in the clinic at the school. It was quicker and easier for students and less disruptive of their schedules, and all that the good doctor would have needed to bring was a binder's worth of papers. Any equipment he needed would have been there already.

After getting for the most part settled in his temporary office and exam room, Victor summoned the first girl in the first group of Sensha-do members to be called to the clinic for their checks. Promptly entering the room was the one and only Orange-Pekoe, a girl with decidedly orange-red hair with somewhat extravagant and elegant styling. She bowed her head to Koveryn briefly while giving a somewhat sedate smile.

"Another year, another exam, right?" She began, "Doesn't feel any different even though this is my third time," she said, gaze shifting briefly around the sterile, clinical room which was devoid of color.

Doctor Koveryn chuckled, holding out a hand which one of her own met and grasped, giving her a firm but gentle handshake. "I wouldn't imagine so, procedure is procedure, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Typically the interesting checkups are the bad ones," he said as he let go of her hand, "mostly embarrassing ones."

That got Orange-Pekoe rather red-faced, the girl preemptively expecting mention of some previous happening she'd forgotten or blocked out of her mind while Victor seemed to think nothing of it, his own focus shifting to his clipboard which seemed to be a mostly blank note sheet and checklist.

"Alrighty, have a seat on the table," he said as he made a gesture to the cold metal thing, still not making eye-contact with her again yet. "I assume you've not changed too much since I last saw you? Still not feeling sick at all or experiencing anything out of the ordinary?" He inquired, finally looking over to her again as she got 'comfortable' on that flat metal platform, her legs dangling off the floor due to her height.

The girl shook her head, a somewhat blank expression adorning her face as she maintained eyes on the doctor. "Nope, can't say so. Just the normal nerves of a new school year, you know? Though I'm pretty sure I had that last time too..." She said, considering as Victor made brief notes of her response.

"Okay," he mumbled, green eyes moving from his clipboard to her as he continued with his questionnaire which included such things as "Have you been sexually active recently?" "If so, are you using protection?" "Are you on any form of birth control at the moment?" "Are you taking any other kinds of medications, prescription or otherwise?" "How would you describe your relationship with your mother?" And a plethora of other questions which ranged from intrusive to trivially so to seemingly completely unrelated to anything medical, but each question was delivered with just as clinical of a monotone as the last.

Of course, there was a point to it all. The list of questions was designed to be an overall test to get out any information that Victor needed outright as well as probing questions to get an idea of the tested person's psychological state and behavior. Things which weren't as needed with returning players, but Koveryn wasn't one to slack with such things, and a once yearly test for such a potentially dangerous sport should be thorough every time as far as he was concerned.

Meanwhile, the responses Orange-Pekoe gave varied depending on the question. Her face went red to any questions regarding sexuality in any way, but she answered the best she could, albeit vague in places. She held very few things back, but didn't go into extreme detail by any means. Unsurprisingly, her answers marked her as 'passing' the examination so far.

"Riiight," Victor somewhat croaked, placing his clipboard and pen down on the counter which covered the wall opposite the metal examination table after noting her reply to the final question. After this, he grabbed some disposable, characteristically purple-pink gloves from a nearby container which dispensed the gloves in an almost tissue-like fashion. Upon getting the things firmly on his hands, he approached Orange-Pekoe proper. "Now for the more physical part," he said flatly, offering a brief smile before his hands moved to her neck, gently kneading the sides before moving up to where her throat meets her head and jaw - ensuring no swollen lymph nodes or other abnormalities were present.

"So how was your summer holiday? Get up to anything interesting?" He asked, quite a bit less cold and clinical now that he wasn't asking questions he wanted serious answers to.

Pekoe swallowed and blinked, having adjusted her head slightly and tilted it up out of instinct while his fingers softly pattered on her skin. She shrugged to his question, "I wouldn't say so... I learned a couple new tea brewing recipes and preparation techniques, but other than that nothing much more than reading and lazing around."

Victor nodded, his fingers moving lower and onto her shoulders, before he practically just gave them a brief massage - the girl straightening her posture and her head position once he was done examining her up there. "Interesting," he replied, "though I can't say I'm surprised. I swear at the rate you're going, you're going to know how to prepare more types of tea than there are British tanks to serve them in." With that, he removed his hands from her body for now, grabbing the stethoscope around his neck and putting it on himself proper before testing the listening device and pressing it to his patient's chest - ever so slightly to the left of her sternum.

Pekoe smiled at his remark, giving a small shrug. "It's not impossible," was all she could muster as a reply before she hushed herself while he listened to her heart.

Following some small adjustments in positioning in the same general area, Victor soon moved around her to place the stethoscope receiver on her back, occasionally giving a simple command of "Inhale" or "Exhale" as he listened closely to her lungs. He nodded a bit to himself after that, soon enough pulling away from the girl who was now a bit lightheaded to take off the stethoscope and drape it around his neck once more. "Well, your lungs and heart sound fine as they did before. You and most of the other students here have pretty open airways, I'm assuming because of all the tea you guys take in here." He mentioned as he briefly jotted down his findings, or rather lackthereof.

"That's a theory," she said with a raised eyebrow. "Should get one of the aspiring doctoral students to do a thesis on that..." She considered aloud, looking off into space for a moment before the good doctor was once again standing before her, getting a penlight out of his pocket and shining it on his hand to test it for a moment before he leaned a little forward - his face nearing Pekoe's that much more as he moved a hand up to his face to adjust his black, rectangular rimmed glasses with one of his knuckles.

"Now for the more interesting part," he said before going to work. He checked her pupil responses first, making sure their dilation and contraction were as reactive as they should be before he pulled back and instructed her to follow the light with her eyes. She passed with flying colors, and soon enough he pocketed the light before doing resistance testing with her - having her hold her arms out and resist him pushing them down or up.

Eventually, the testing was done, and Orange-Pekoe was released with a departing bow from both parties, and the next patient to be tested arrived. A few patients later, the doctor laid his eyes on a very familiar face - the overall commander of the Saint Gloriana Sensha-do team for a couple years now, Darjeeling.

Darjeeling and Victor had a somewhat special relationship. Not necessarily a romantic one mind you, but there was a bond between them none the less. One that was somewhat apparent given the friendly hug they had exchanged once the blonde-haired blue-eyed woman had entered the room.

"Good morning, Victor," she greeted with a gentle smile, already moving to have a seat on the table. "Lovely to see you again so soon, even if it's for school reasons again," she continued, seeming to be less than thrilled with the double examinations but not very openly whining about it.

"A good morning it is," he replied, quick to once again grab his clipboard for the barrage of questions and answers, "and I would agree. Perhaps we should have a drink together sometime," he said before clearing his throat, pen at the ready to write as he began questioning.

"Indeed, maybe I'll finally be able to find a tea that you like this time," she joked, smile still resting on her lips. The established 'relationship' between the two was one that formed out of simple familiarity. An occupational hazard, more or less. Darjeeling transferred to the school and started her education going on four years ago, as a freshman, and it took some growing and experience before she became the calm, collected strategist and leader that she was now. A big part of the issues she was having during her first year was being so far from her parents and having to be so independent, which was jarring for anyone their first time.

While some may have merely gotten over the situation in a trial by fire for better or worse, forgetting crucial things and messing up and retroactively trying to fix them, Darjeeling was the opposite. She was almost too on top of everything that was going on and that she had to take care of, one such thing was her health. This worked somewhat in her favor, as the strain put on herself from being so overly paranoid and active in making sure she checked, double-checked and triple-checked everything essential and otherwise that she needed to do did cause her to become ill rather frequently.

Victor was a bit lower on the totem pole in the medical bureaucracy until more recently, and as such it was not uncommon for him - still not being much more than a recent transfer himself from another school ship's medical facility - to be the one to treat Darjeeling whether she needed it or not.

Now of course, with the help of Sensha-do and general experience and time, Darjeeling has become the strong and independent woman she was today. She aced her classes, knew how to properly act as a refined individual, and could probably command an entire platoon with her eyes closed and a cup of tea in her hand.

This was reflected during the examination. Darjeeling had naturally had a bit of 'experience' with such exams a few times over the years, and given how clear and level her head was, this would be no different. She answered every question clearly and concisely with little to no pause to even think, and she didn't have more than the faintest blush grace her cheeks when anything relating to sexual activity came up. She almost looked smug with the resting smirk on her face, as if she memorized the answer key to a test and was dishing out all the right answers without even thinking about it.

Further, the more physical portions of the examination left the room more or less silent as Victor didn't need to so much as instruct her or state to her what he was going to do next. The commander ended with a clean bill of health, as expected, and in record time at that.

"I'm not sure if I should be impressed or insulted that you have this routine down to a science now," Victor commented as he scribbled his remaining notes down after discarding his gloves.

Darjeeling gave a short, dignified giggle, "I would hope you'd take it as a compliment that I pay enough attention to memorize the steps of the exam so well. Though the fact that I had a refresher a couple days ago probably helps," She said with a brief roll of her eyes. The double testing was great for medical and record keeping purposes, but nothing else about it was convenient or desirable for sure. Now standing, the commander gave a bow to her doctor, who bowed back once he sat his clipboard down.

"The quicker the better, I suppose. Have a wonderful day, Commander. I hope to see you again soon under less sterile circumstances," He said with the faintest hint of a smile.

Nodding her head, Darjeeling exited the room, and Victor's next patient arrived very soon after. Trading one blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl for another, Assam entered with her hands clasped in front of herself, head slightly bowed downward.

Victor attempted to keep a chipper expression once Assam entered, gesturing to the table in the room with one hand as he flipped the papers on his clipboard to the appropriate sheet. Given she was seemingly nervous about the whole thing, Victor was going to try his best to make her feel comfortable. Darjeeling had always been a breath of fresh air in that respect, a seemingly perfect patient and a good friend to hang out with. Go figure that came with a speedy examination.

"Good morning Miss Assam," Victor began, pulling on a new pair of gloves. "Hope you had a lovely summer, been up to anything interesting?" He asked, breaking the ice in the way that he had been doing all day. The experience was already an inconvenience, may as well try to make it a friendly and engaging one.

Assam twitched as she was addressed, and... Blushed? Her face looked a shade redder at any rate, her hands curled up in fists in her lap as she sat there and Victor began his examination, going in the same order he had been all day. "Yes! Very lovely. And, nothing too-too interesting... I mean, not to normal people. Er- Most people, sorry." She stammered, seemingly less composed when without her team or a 75mm cannon between her and others she doesn't know.

Victor raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes off her face for fear of making her somehow less comfortable. "Go on," he said, "I could be one of the ones who finds it interesting."

Nervously, Assam shook her head a bit, "Nawh... Wouldn't wanna waste your time talking about it," she said, soon finding the doctor looking up at her with eyes that could only be described as 'completely unamused'.

"If you say so," he said as he stood, taking his stethoscope from around his neck and beginning his check on her respiratory and cardiovascular systems. The room was silent for a moment, as it always was for this portion, and before long the stethoscope was back around Koveryn's neck as he notated his findings. Or lackthereof.

"It's just uh, research stuff," Assam spoke up after the multiple minute long silence. "What I've been getting into, I mean. Looking things up, reviewing data, compiling it all, getting statistics and probabilities, that sort of thing," she said with a keen interest in her legs and hands, rubbing one now looser fist over her knee.

"Really?" Victor asked with a risen eyebrow. "Wouldn't have expected you'd be into that sort of stuff. Maybe you can help me with organizing sometime if you want another 'extra-curricular activity' under your belt beyond Sensha-do," he joked.

This caused Assam's eyes to brighten a bit, "I will if you need me to! But, ah, I guess I'll probably be pretty busy with Sensha-do, yeah." She said, getting herself somewhat excited and then calmed down again with impressive speed.

Following this was the dreaded questionnaire, which took quite a bit longer than the median if for no other reason than Assam being vague and Victor needing her to repeat herself with a better answer for him to log it. Victor also had to make additional semi-unrelated notes for her physical reactions to certain questions. For example, the poor girl blushed so red - and in gradually more and more severe stages - with each question relating to her sexual activity that she looked like a ripe tomato.

More interesting still was the implication that she may have indeed been seeing someone and getting frisky. Though Victor didn't press further given that it frankly wasn't his business and he didn't want the girl to red out from so much blood in her head at once.

Following the remaining physical exams, Assam was soon released with Koveryn having another crisp and clean bill of health to file for later. Moving the paper to the 'completed' section in his binder revealed a patient he knew he wouldn't be seeing today. At least not here. He blinked and sighed, closing his eyes as he moved the empty sheet to the back of his 'incomplete' section. He'd find it later and remember then, but the last thing he wanted was to have that on his mind right now.

Soon enough, the door opened with another student to be examined, and Victor tried his best to not think about it. It would already be bad enough when he finally went to visit her.


	2. Housecall

Summer was coming to a close and preparing to become autumn, cool winds regularly coming to banish the heat of the mid-year season one breeze at a time. As such, the colors of everything on the ship were reaching their most beautiful right before the cold weather would be able to sweep in and remove the leaves from the trees. The day had since ended for most, students and staff alike as well as various other workers around the ship had clocked out for the day.

The sun was beginning to set, casting an even more beautiful light on the expertly laid out and maintained grounds of just about the whole of the vessel. It was a sight that Victor never got tired of seeing, especially after a day of working in a sterile white box having to maintain a professional facade at all times and act in practiced routine.

The students of the school meanwhile merely had to look forward to this environment to accompany them as they walked home or partook in after school clubs or Sensha-do practice. The lattermost event not happening for at least another week given that the yearly required inspection on all vehicles in the Saint Gloriana fleet was underway. Another headache at the start of the year for those involved in the sport, but once again an ultimately necessary one.

Meanwhile, Doctor Koveryn's walk home wasn't a good one, as technically his work day was not concluded yet. There was still one more 'patient' he had to check up on who wasn't able to meet him at the school clinic today, though he expected that. He also technically wasn't able to do her initial exam to be authorized into the school for this academic year, though thanks to understanding of the powers that be she's been allowed to have the examination late.

Victor soon found himself at a dormitory door, one of the many within spitting distance of the campus. After double checking that he had the right number, he tapped his knuckles on it a few times.

"It's open!" A muffled voice called, prompting Victor to take a deep breath and open up the door before walking in.

The dorm room had a similar layout to all the others nearby, that is to say it had enough space to comfortably house one or two occupants, though most opted for the single option when possible. This particular one was styled in a way that made it quite obvious that the occupant was a fan of tanks and sensha-do. Maybe not to the degree of a certain Ooarai student, but enough to be obvious. Tank models lined one shelf while multiple trophys and other smaller bits of memorabilia relating to the sport sat here and there. It was all laid out in a clean and elegant way which betrayed the practiced grace and cleanliness that all Saint Gloriana students had.

A previously recorded match of Saint Gloriana's from a previous year was paused on the television, seemingly framing a Saunders Sherman of some kind. A Firefly, perhaps? Victor couldn't quite tell, most Shermans looked the same to him. Sitting at a desk, side-on to Victor near the front living space which had the television, was the woman that Victor came to see. He bowed a bit to her, and she grumbled as she emptied her hands of the tiny pieces to the complex Crusader Mk. III model she had before her.

She turned with a feigned smile to Victor, blonde hair flowing and being brushed aside as a set of blue eyes met Victor's, the girl bowing her head slightly. "Hey, uh, thanks for coming. Sorry I couldn't get there on my own... Stupid leg, you know?" She said, kicking the unmoving limb with her other leg.

The doctor kept a straight face, sighing and nodding, "It's no trouble at all, Earl Grey, you're right on my way home anyway," he assured her, walking over to where she sat as she spun a bit around in the office chair.

Currently Earl Grey was clad in more or less a disheveled school uniform for the Gloriana school, having taken off the sweater and pantyhose but keeping the white button-up undershirt and skirt. The tie for the white shirt was even still loosely around her neck. "Still... Seems a bit ridiculous that you need to come all the way here yourself," she said, looking to the floor as the doctor borrowed a chair from the small dining set present to sit across from her. Standing and doing the examination in the short-ish chair she was in would have given him a bit of a sore back.

"I said it's no trouble, especially at this time of year. I hope you've been taking in the sights around the ship before the frost comes in and ruins it," He replied, opening the rather small suitcase he brought with him and grabbing his stethoscope, draping it around his neck before grabbing his clipboard which had only Earl Grey's profile present. The only one left to fill out, actually.

Victor of course was also out of uniform by this point, though naturally not to the degree that Earl Grey was. His lab coat had gone, back in his locker at the hospital, and all that was left were the comfy pair of trainers he wore - great for the standing around all day he tended to be doing - followed by some nice grey trousers and a darker grey turtleneck. The sleeves of which pulled up halfway due to the weather.

The examination Victor performed on Earl Grey was more lax and less professional than the others he had done that day, if for no other reason than the more calm and intimate atmosphere that the housecall brought. As such, there were some additional questions intertwined with the standard set on the questionnaire that Koveryn figured he should ask anyway even if they were somewhat medically irrelevant.

"Have you been alright? You personally, besides the leg and... You know," would have been one such question. Shockingly, the doctor almost sounded genuinely concerned.

Earl Grey was still taking an interest in the carpet on the floor at this stage, though soon looked Victor in the eye once more with a smile. "Come on, it's been almost three years now," she said. "You don't need to keep worrying about me like this, I'm fine. Just a little bummed I can't move like I used to, or," she trailed off, glancing to the paused footage on the television.

Victor's gaze followed hers to the screen, then back again, and he nodded reluctantly. "Right. Right..." He cleared his throat, referring back to his clipboard and continuing the questionnaire.

The responses that followed from Grey were all in a similar vein to Darjeeling's - straight forward and rather rapid fire, albeit not quite as quick. Earl Grey also had an actual trace of humor in her speaking with certain questions and how she would phrase her responses.

Once again, the physical portion of the examination followed - Koveryn placing the clipboard back into his slim bag as he checked her heart, lungs, eyes and so on. Once done, with Victor's stethoscope also returning to his bag, he sighed. "Your breathing is a little fluttery, you sure you're okay?" He asked, scooting ever so slightly closer to her, "You know you're not a commander anymore. You don't need to bottle up your emotions for the sake of others or hide anything," he continued. His tone had lowered, Earl Grey once again having a keen interest in the ground moreso than the doctor's face.

"Exams always make me nervous..." She said, "even when I know I'll pass I still get nervous, you know? That whole non-zero chance that something could come up that I missed..." Still, she avoided eye-contact.

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back in the chair before standing and placing it back where he got it originally without a word. Soon, his hand made it's way to one of her shoulders. "You can't be strong for others if you fight their demons yourself. You 'passed' the exam with an almost perfect bill of health, and I'm always here to talk, alright?" He said, gaining a nod from the girl.

"I have your number still," she replied, practically adding to his statement, which promptly gained a nod from him.

Giving a short rub of his hand on her shoulder, Victor removed the hand and grabbed his suitcase, offering a smile to Earl Grey. "Perhaps we can chat over some coffee sometime?" He teased, Earl Grey smirking up at him.

"Tea or nothing, you heretic!" She replied back jokingly, snickering somewhat before waving a goodbye as the good doctor eventually left her room, the girl sighing and glancing over to her phone which did indeed have his number in the contact list.

The remainder of Victor's walk home was uneventful, his brain half at ease and half on edge after finally meeting with Earl Grey and performing her examination. "Not as bad as she used to be but still clearly not over it..." He mumbled, making notes aloud to himself, shaking his head.

"She was even a little shaky on some of the psyche questions, and that breathing issue," he sighed once again, exasperatedly, looking absently up to the sky and the plethora of stunning, fiery colors being produced by the setting sun. He soon paused, looking down the road - the cherry blossom trees flanking either side threatening to let their leaves loose early, as if prematurely shedding for the winter with small piles of the vibrant leaves littering the ground in places.

Momentarily, Koveryn was partially awestruck, never quite getting used to how gorgeous the various plants and professionally landscaped areas all around the ship looked at this time of year. The pinnacle of beauty before it was all washed away in a white haze, plants dying or otherwise barely clinging to life only to start their cycle from the beginning all for these couple weeks of awesome visuals.

Eventually, Victor continued on with a huff. "Such a beautiful world around us and we retreat into our inner minds to hide from one thing or another... Maybe I should actually take her out sometime, get her away from all of this nonsense to do with... That..." He considered before shoving it out of his mind. He was just as guilty as getting lost in his thoughts as some of the people he criticized were.

It was, after all, a burden of his profession to be versatile and deal with multiple medical disciplines. Both physical anatomy and the mental with psychology, and even though he cared for a relatively small population of mostly school students, there was always the occasional genuine problem of either case which caused him to think too much. This was no different, and he had decided he thought about it enough for today.

With some effort, he shoved it out of his mind. He had no time to think about this any further, especially with all the paperwork and additional patients he'd need to see in the coming weeks. Post-match assessments of those potentially a little banged up, the inevitable wave of sickness spreading from so many students suddenly congregating on school grounds with the new academic year and all the other small details in between.

Once home, Victor through the door after walking through it and shutting it behind himself, he took a deep breath. He'd done enough work today, now was time to unwind. He'd allow himself to be caught up in the petty matters of his workplace and patients when the sun rose once more.

Tomorrow was another day.


	3. Hypertension

By this point, the Saint Gloriana Women's Academy was back in the groove for another year of schooling. A week following initial medical examinations and students picking clubs, just about everyone was settled in and ready for another year aboard the ship. The sensha-do team especially, who had finally been inspected head to toe - from crew to equipment - and deemed fit for entry in the national tournament once again. The tournament drawing was to take place in a couple day's time, and it was currently the calm before the storm for the sensha-do team.

The stress and busy schedules of the members of the team weren't in full force yet, it would only be when training and practice started up again proper that once again Victor would need to attend to his yearly renewals of prescriptions for sleeping medication or give advice for how to deal with a plethora of bruises or minor scrapes. While the sport posed little real threat to the participants, having to juggle it in addition to typical academic requirements and obligations can certainly lead to mental strain. On rare occasion, it can also be found that certain individuals are very unsuited for sensha-do and will crack under pressure quite spectacularly. Though of course over the years, more and more measures have been put in place to prevent such a thing from happening. One of the most obvious of which being portions of Victor's own questionnaire that he will use during his examination of sensha-do applicants.

On this day of days, the doctor was performing his usual duties which dealt mostly with filing paperwork and performing administrative duties at the hospital. It was rare these days that he would deal with patients on a one-on-one basis in a traditional sense like he was doing the previous week. It was almost like a mini-vacation and trip down memory lane from the horrors of being in the borderline administrative position he was in. If he was in an actual full-on admin position, he probably would have sabotaged his own position to get back to the more interesting hands-on work he was used to. Thankfully however, this level was somewhat tolerable and more varied and interesting than what a land-bound hospital head doctor may need to deal with.

However, the doctor's day was soon to change, as a certain reddish-pink haired girl was being ushered into the building and put to wait in an examination room. Normally nothing that Koveryn would know of or bother with, except just who she was and who her parents were somehow elevated the case from a standard little checkup from a normal doctor up to Victor's level. This was a surprise to him as his phone began to ring on his desk. He would have never expected the instructions that came from the other end when he answered, soon causing him to walk across the building from the administrative wing to actual patient care and eventually to the clinic area where in that room he would find Rosehip.

Infamous for her love of speed and disregard of most graceful and elegant practices the school taught and upheld, Doctor Koveryn rose an eyebrow as he observed her sat on the table with her arms crossed over her midsection somewhat hunched over. That didn't stop her legs from kicking back and forth idly however.

"Miss Rosehip," He began as he entered the room proper, soon donning a pair of gloves from a box on the wall. "Let me take a wild guess as to why you're here..." He said, gradually pacing the room to get all that he needed for his inspection. Which didn't seem to be much at all, oddly.

The girl huffed, avoiding eye-contact with him. "I-It's not like before, my stomach it-" She tried to reply, but soon got cut off.

"Yes, it hurts, you feel sick, I know. I've heard it from you last week, last year, and even the year before that if I recall," He said, soon sitting down on a rolling chair and sliding on over to her - the doc's face a bit below eye-level with hers. "How many times do we need to have this discussion?" He asked simply, hands clasped in his lap as he looked up at her.

She continued avoiding his gaze, a bit red-faced by this point, "I-I... Can't help it!" She blurted out, more or less giving up on a retort as she looked at him with a furrowed brow, scowling a little.

"Sure you can," he replied, "you know that if you just ignore it the pain will go away by second period, and I'm pretty sure you don't like having to walk a couple blocks and make me walk across this entire building just so we can have this talk again."

Rosehip remained silent, shaking her head a bit as she glanced away again, which prompted Koveryn to stand up and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You can't keep doing this and avoiding school and your classes. I've seen your records, you do fantastic when you apply yourself, not to mention-" He moved his head near to the side of hers, whispering in her ear, "If you keep this up, you can get pulled from sensha-do for under performing in other classes," before he pulled away again.

Her eyes widened, and she sighed heavily, sitting upright and looking up now at Victor. "Yeah but, I still get nervous regardless whenever it comes to, you know... Some stuff..."

The doctor removed his hand from her shoulder, "I'm not really the one to ask about building self-confidence, but as I've said you're a good student when you want to be, and you're a fantastic sensha-do athlete too."

"Not what I meant-" she said quickly, "The other thing," the girl mumbled as he eyes shifted around briefly before reaching his face again. "The- Thing with Earl Grey," she elaborated, still speaking quietly as her hands rubbed together in her lap, her legs still idly kicking of course.

"Oh. That," he blinked, scratching the back of his head, "The drawing hasn't even happened yet, and when it does there's such a low chance that we'll be matched up against them again. Plus even if we do, the sport has been refined in a lot of ways since then. It's next to impossible that... That, would ever happen again, be it to us or any other team." He said, assuring the girl the best he could.

Her hands remained at her lap as she twiddled her thumbs and her gaze seemed to be focused on the act while he spoke. Once he was done, she still sighed, "I guess you're right. I'm sorry, doctor," she said as she slid off the table and on to her feet once more.

The man nodded, "Very good, now back to class with you, and if I see you in here again with anything less than projectile vomiting symptoms during school hours, I'm going to do a fill blood test and throat swabbing," he smirked, glasses seeming to become opaque as he looked her in the eye.

Rosehip shuddered, shivering visibly as a drop of sweat started to slide down the side of her face. "R-Right! Yes sir! No more false alarms, see ya!" She quickly replied, practically running out of the room and building to return to the actual academy which was, thankfully, about a ten minute walk away. Much less than that if one were to run it.

Koveryn chuckled, sighing afterwards before glancing to the watch on his wrist. He momentarily congratulated himself on a record breaking checkup time, but the reality of why she was there soon hit him. He didn't doubt that the butterflies in her stomach were potentially more genuine this time, she wouldn't make up a reason as serious as that for why she was trying to call in sick this time. Once again Victor was thinking about that way too much, about Earl Grey and all the other girls impacted by what had happened. He let out a sigh and assured himself as he began returning to his office that such an event would never have a repeat, using the same logic as he did on Rosehip, but there was always that sub-one percent possibility that it could always happen again.

Days continued to roll by without anything too out of the ordinary occurring, though it seemed tensions were silently rising among many at the school - staff and otherwise - as the day of the drawing finally came to pass. Darjeeling was naturally the member of the team to draw the number, approaching the box with a stoic composure which was standard of her character. However, upon drawing and holding up her number and gazing to the large screen displaying the match-ups for the first matches, her eyes shook as a shiver ran briefly down her body.

Composure hardly shaken, she soon walked down from the stage as a number of knowing glances made their way around the large stadium-like building, whispers following. Some cheers and boos of course, that came with every drawing, but some present clearly had a better memory than others given that the number Darjeeling picked had matched the school up against Pravda high school.

As the commander sat down between Assam and Orange-pekoe, she felt at least one hand make its way to meet her own. Darjeeling, barely shaken as she was, maintained such composure, but knew full well why her reaction was far from unwarranted. It was almost as if a shock-wave had been unleashed from that stadium, differentiating those who followed sensha-do more closely than others, and those with potentially superior memories.

Orange-pekoe seemed to be expressing her worry through body language to the commander, while Assam looked completely unaware as to what the issue was. Two different yet equally justified reactions mirrored half and half by the rest of the Saint Gloriana team and viewership alike.

Darjeeling merely smiled to Orange-pekoe, attempting to silently reassure her all the while.

This effect was even witnessed back on the school ship, where those who couldn't attend the event in person - which included more or less everyone but the key members of the sensha-do team - were watching it live.

Victor took a deep breath from his office, fingers intertwined as his eyes fell shut for a moment. "Strike one," he mumbled to himself.

Earl Grey was sat at home, attempting to work on the same Crusader model she was the week previous. Final touches now, just the paint and tiny details now, but she practically froze when the fact that the team was facing Pravda hit her. She took a breath of her own, slowly slouching back in her seat as she stared at the television screen. Her hands fell to her lap, one moving to idly grip one of her thighs as she slowly shook her head.


	4. Anxiety

Tensions reaching their maximum across the vessel, or at least the parts concerned with sensha-do, Victor was already starting to get some patient requests for prescription renewal of just the types of medication he was expecting. No surprises there, it was going to happen around when sensha-do started full swing this year anyway. It always tended to. More surprising was the message left for him by Commander Darjeeling this morning, a few days following the tournament drawing which stirred up all this unrest. It was short and simple, merely requesting a meetup with her after school was let out and he was off for the day.

He figured her given reason for not wanting to talk over the phone consisted moreso of not wanting to bother him than anything else, not like that would be possible. He looked for any excuse to get out of all this moderating of all those below him, who all functioned quite well on their own anyway, not to mention half of his admin assignments seemed to be more like busy work than anything else. He was assured that his position was necessary even when it wasn't, but that contradiction never made him feel better. He was just glad that he was still given 'grunt work' when it came to the health of the sensha-do team, and as such was somewhat saddened by the fact that Rosehip was keeping her promise of no false alarms as well as she had been after their earlier talk.

Thankfully the end of the day came soon enough, Victor taking his usual route home and making sure to walk by the gates to the school. As usual, Victor made sure to appreciate the orange blazed sky above - autumn gradually coming in full force and some trees starting to change colors early. Thankfully though, leaves weren't deciding to fall quite yet.

Nearing the block which housed the academy campus in its entirety, Victor was now flanked on his right side by the wall which surrounded the place. Soon enough, he arrived near the main gate, some students still loitering around or else just now leaving. It was a fairly simple task of locating Darjeeling, she was somewhat recognizable in a small crowd like this, and she was quite near one of the pillars of the gate.

She smiled to Victor as he neared, giving a little wave. It seemed she was passing the time talking with Rukuriri, who gave a rather hasty farewell to the commander and a nod to Victor as she hurried by. Not that he was offended, she was one of those people who were uncomfortable around doctors, apparently even out of the office. Nothing he could do about it. Instead, he gave a returning little wave and smile to Darjeeling as he soon stood before her.

"Thank you for coming, I didn't want to bother you over the phone, I know your busy-" She began, before giving a whisper, "Plus, you know, I prefer speaking face to face."

The doctor nodded, "Yes, I appreciate it but know that I always have time for you, Commander. So what is it you needed?" he inquired.

"It wasn't quite something I needed, as much as something I was going to offer you. As per my tradition, I'm planning a visit with Katyusha and Nonna, and on this trip I was going to invite some more of the team than I usually do," she said. "Given how uneasy everyone is I thought it would be a good idea to meet with the 'enemy' proper, that should dispel some worry. Also, I know you're not exactly a standard part of the team, but you've dealt with just as much as everyone else has, so I thought that maybe..." She trailed off, gaze falling from Victor's for a moment.

"You know Pravda is also where I got my start working as a doctor on these ships before I transferred here, would be interesting to see how things have changed over there," He said, both picking up the conversation and giving her an excuse to invite him along. Not that he was lying, it certainly would be interesting to see what happened since he moved to Saint Gloriana, but there was still a reason he left to begin with.

Darjeeling nearly beamed up at Victor at his reply, "Ah, yes, of course!" She cleared her throat, "So, would you accept my invitation? I'll make sure the rest of the details get to you as soon as I have them."

He gave a nod, "Sure thing," he replied. "Thank you for extending the offer, I'm sure your plan will work." It was a good idea as far as he was concerned. Meeting the 'enemy' face to face was a fairly good way to banish any delusions of horror that a paranoid mind may fill in blanks with.

"Anytime, I look forward to seeing you again soon in that case," the commander replied. She held out a hand then, Victor grasping it with his own and giving a departing handshake before the two went their separate ways.

Once again the commander was a breath of fresh air for Victor. He was of course there as a medical professional, and it was no surprise that most of the contact he got with the various sensha-do team members were of a medical nature, but it was always nice to have a conversation about something that was anything but.

He still couldn't help worrying about even that in the back of his mind, however. There were the girls who were overly sensitive, there were the girls who would talk about any minor issue as if it were a big one, there were the ones who were strong emotionally or physically. Lastly though, there were the ones who kept all their feelings bottled up, desperate to maintain a calm and collected exterior at all costs. Something which worked well enough until the bottle they use to keep all those emotions in check cracks, and it always cracked.

Victor had no evidence for or against this theory applying to Darjeeling, but given how she seemed to model herself on the former commander Earl Grey, and what happened following Grey's leave of her commanding position and handing it off to Darjeeling, it wasn't looking good. As such, Koveryn made a mental note to pursue a line of questioning. Not with her, but rather her teammates, at least at first. Once he had enough reasonable suspicion, then he'd ask her directly with some battery of questions to test and see if she was perhaps a ticking time bomb like Earl Grey had been - getting ever more volatile to collapse with each stressful match.

Naturally this would probably be another thing on the doctor's to-do list which went undone, simply for the reason that he didn't want to know for sure that she was one of those people, even with the possibility that he may be worrying too much. Even if that worry was well-seeded, given their relationship.

He shook his head, once again banishing such work-related thoughts from his mind as he neared his home, having a break before sleeping to deal with another day of such human matters...

It wasn't too long after this, maybe not even a full twenty-four hours, that Victor received an e-mail from Darjeeling containing a time, date, place, and even a copied PDF of written permission from the head master of the school authorizing the excursion. Something that Koveryn didn't need, but figured was just copied there for the actual students who were going on the small journey.

The day of the brief transfer was promptly following the one the commander had sent her e-mail on. Still underway and at sea, the Saint Gloriana and Pravda High ships wouldn't be docking for this meeting - instead merely listing lazily in the vague direction of one another to allow the visit to go quickly and smoothly. The elapsed time of the visit would be more or less the length of a standard school day, showing up and leaving for Pravda at around eight or nine in the morning, then returning for dismissal at around three in the afternoon.

Victor was more concerned with how he could potentially file this excursion - more specifically his participation and accompanying - as something other than a vacation day. Not that he was that lazy or stingy with said vacation days, he was moreso viewing it as a puzzle of sorts. Though it was one he'd need to sort later, as soon enough they were off on their relatively small but fast hovercraft, floating on that cushion of air and speeding across the water's surface at high speed. Pravda was but a tiny dot on the horizon to begin with, so travel time wouldn't be too-too long.

It would be prudent to note that the hovercraft, while small compared to the enormous multiple mile long vessel that was the school ship, wasn't itself a small people carrier. On the contrary, it could hold probably well over twenty passengers and two Matilda tanks comfortably. It was a front-loaded vehicle, any heavy cargo along the lines of tanks or cars being taken in the front and offloaded the same way due to the two huge fans on the stern of the ship for propulsion and to maintain the air cushion the craft rode on. It was also a rather loud contraption, meaning that anyone in their right mind would be inside the lounge areas away from the noise rather than standing out on the deck. The water splatter was also a bit of an annoyance, but it was British engineering! Plus it was at least somewhat practical in certain instances, like this one, which is why Saint Gloriana owned it.

Some brought reading material, others just chatted, while some others just twiddled their thumbs. Koveryn for one was enjoying the view from the lounge. Spotting a sunrise from the wide open ocean was something he was ironically rarely able to do in spite of the fact that he had been technically living and working on a ship for almost five years. The loud whirring of the huge fans propelling the craft across the sea was a mere low hum inside the viewing deck. Plus the lesser amount of passengers than normal gave everyone present the opportunity to have a fair amount of space to themselves.

The doctor kept to himself for now, not one to inject himself into conversations with others who were already occupied. Especially given just about everyone present was a patient of his to some capacity, and a few were catching some sleep anyway it seemed. However, soon Victor's focus on the horizon and his quietly bashing himself over forgetting to bring a camera was interrupted. There was a poke at his sleeve, prompting him to turn and look to see one of the blondes of the school. Assam, in this case.

"Good morning," she greeted with feigned enthusiasm, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" She inquired, glancing briefly out the window and the lovely rising sun before her eyes returned to Koveryn's - her arms behind her back at this point.

He gave a nod to her greeting before he shook his head and also looked back out at the sea. "No, not at all. What do you need, Assam?" He asked, before a gloom momentarily came over him, "You're not needing a renewal of any meds too, are you?" He shivered, having been flooded with those lately as tensions had been rising and students went back to relying on one helping hand or another. Better they got it from him than a back-alley dealer, but that was yet more paperwork which was a bit of a pain to get all in order.

Assam giggled a bit, shaking her head, "No no, nothing like that. I had a couple little uh, questions was all. Non-medical ones," she replied, seeming to get a bit hush-hush about it now.

That piqued Victor's interest, his eyebrow rising as he leaned his side on the wall of windows that lined most of this lounge, giving a more or less three-sixty degree view outside on the smooth crystal blue sea. His hands slid loosely into his pockets as he stood like this, now mostly facing the girl and looking a bit down at her. He was taller than just about all the students. "Go on," he said simply, "I'm all ears."

She seemed to close the already small gap that much further after he moved and spoke, her side now also leaning on the glass wall as she glanced out it. "Well, everyone seems super nervous about the match against Pravda and stuff. Like, everyone's always nervous on the new year, but it feels moreso than normal, especially after the drawing. I know something's up, but nobody I ask knows or they pretend not to..." She huffed, clearly somewhat frustrated on the matter, but still trying to be quiet. "You've been here since commander Darjeeling started attending, you must know something about it," she whispered, finally down to the reason she was talking to him specifically.

Taking a shaky breath, the doctor adjusted his glasses, looking briefly to the carpeted floor before staring Assam in the eye. "All you need to know is that while everyone is justifiably nervous, it's just unfounded paranoia. There was an... Accident, that happened the last time Saint Gloriana took on Pravda. It shouldn't have happened in the first place, but with the additional safety systems and rigorous checks that are done during every year of sensha-do being practiced, it's next to impossible for such a thing to happen again." He was speaking in a low, quiet, deadly serious tone.

It was one which Assam had never heard before, and was somewhat shocking to her. This caused her eyes to somewhat widen as she stood at attention, rigid and listening intently to all that he had to say. She had no words of her own to reply with, however.

"I recommend you stop digging with this matter. Knowing any more details would only hinder you, and asking others may not be in your best interest," he soon continued as he peered once more out of the window. The dot that was the Pravda ship having gotten larger and larger on the horizon as they were visibly gaining ground on it by the second. Looking back to Assam, he gave her a pat on the shoulder, causing her to twitch as he offered her a smile. "Worrying about the past doesn't help one's performance in the future, you should know that," he soon said.

Assam nodded, though her brow furrowed as she slowly turned and began to walk away and return to her seat. Under her breath she mumbled, though quiet enough to the point that nobody but herself could hear, "But those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it..."


	5. Paranoia

The rest of the relatively brief journey from Saint Gloriana to Pravda passed without much incident, especially so for Victor following his conversation with Assam. The blonde in question returning to her place near the commander with some marked disappointment that not even the doctor, someone she knew to be a typically level-headed and friendly sort, would give her the answers she was so desperately searching for. Answers which she'd be able to potentially find relatively easily if she knew where to look. An irony lost on most everyone involved, given her affinity for statistics, probability and being knowledgeable on similar topics including the occasional straight research project.

The hovercraft pulled beside the massive vessel after plenty of warning to the appropriate individuals, the sight of the monolithic structure being directly astern to it and at sea level momentarily reminding those who cared to look just how much of an engineering marvel these ships were. Engineering marvels for the seemingly dubious purpose of acting as schools with attached towns and communities, though that was altogether another mystery which would be potentially solved later.

Along the side of the superstructure, one of multiple large ports intended for use when docking on land had opened a pair of huge sliding doors - a ramp sliding down into the water beyond them to lead any would-be watercraft inside a hangar-like area. It took a shockingly long amount of time for the hovercraft to make its way from water to the insides of the Pravda ship, causing some to perhaps think that there were complications about with something or other. However, this was merely a standard lengthy process which came with the docking of such a bizarre vehicle inside of another potentially equally bizarre one. Especially given that ship-to-ship passenger transfers were almost never done with another watercraft being the middleman. It was always typically done while both ships were docked in port, or else the passengers were air-lifted from point A to B.

Soon enough however, the hovercraft was finally aboard the Pravda ship in one of many docking ports on either side of the vessel. Following this, the occupants aboard the St. Gloriana hovercraft were ushered out and onto the metal floor of the docking bay. With a brief introduction by a few Pravda seamen explaining that they would be escorts and guides for the duration of their stay to ensure there was no getting lost - something which was not an impossibility on any school ship, even one's own - the visitors were off.

It had been decided ahead of time by Darjeeling as she planned this whole morale-boosting event that, rather than a standard one-on-one meeting for tea like she normally had, today's meeting would include key Pravda team members as well as Gloriana ones. Katyusha, Darjeeling, their key underlings, and the commanders of most other tanks in their respective fleets who were available. The event had been framed as somewhat of a large lunch, though the fact of how long everyone would be there and how many people were present caused the whole thing to border on being a party. Not that either overall commander would condone such a comparison.

On the somewhat lengthy elevator ride to the surface of the vessel, a plan of the day was briefly outlined. While a somewhat freeform mingle session for members of both teams to get to know their opposition on friendly terms, this was still a school sanctioned event. As such, there were somewhat strict rules governing the whole thing and boundaries that the students on the trip had to follow. Standard things of course, plenty of which common sense, but all bore repeating for sure.

None of which were things that Victor paid much attention to. Not that he needed to or should have, he was a member of staff, invited here for alternative reasons to the rest of the student body present. He was here to have a brief trip down memory lane and see what had changed since he got transferred to Saint Gloriana half a decade ago. All he needed to remember was when he needed to be back to the hovercraft to return home. Something he'd likely fail to forget as he compulsively checked his watch on a regular basis. He even had an alarm set on it in the unlikely event that it did slip his mind.

Completing the ascent to the main deck of the ship soon after the kind Pravda chaperone finished her spiel, the doors opened to reveal the insides of a somewhat busy metro station of some description. Of course she ship was big enough to warrant the need for such a thing, yet it was small enough that the tram could move you anywhere you wanted to go and close enough to every point of interest that it made walking everywhere a very viable option. Victor snickered under his breath, it seemed the tram line had evolved a bit since he was here last, and it was mildly amusing that the school being inspired by what it was had a strong public transport system.

From elevator to train, the Saint Gloriana visitors weren't far from their destinations now, but it was around this point that would mark the departure of the good doctor from the visiting student body. Without a word, but perhaps a departing glance back and forth from Victor to Commander Darjeeling, Koveryn was left practically alone on that tram as it emptied of the visiting students, and soon the doors closed and it was traveling to his stop, the Pravda ship hospital.

Being dropped off within easy walking distance from the building, Victor pocketed his hands as he looked up to the relatively tall structure less than a block away before he began walking. Of course the hospital didn't need to be massive given the relatively small amount of people it serviced, but the squared-up five story building certainly stood out amongst the two or three story ones it was situated around. Victor walked at a normal pace, not in any particular rush to get there. He was more or less here to just sight-see anyway, and he had plenty of time to do so, why cut it short?

The place hadn't changed much for sure, though five years wasn't a terribly long time for that to happen. Victor's straight face was occasionally adorned with a small smile when he'd rest his gaze on a familiar shop or a potentially familiar face. It was impossible to know everyone on a school ship, but one could always get used to the ecosystem that was around - the kind of 'culture' that being a part of such a semi-isolated community bred. Plus even if he didn't speak to everyone or know them all by name, there was still always the occasional person you'd happen to see multiple times going on the same route as you day after day.

It was all a pleasant walk down memory lane, even down to the point when he walked up the steps of the fair sized courtyard prior to the entrance of the building. Walking through those doors and taking a breath, he momentarily felt like he was walking in for another day of work. Of course, he was only here as a visitor, to chat with some former colleagues on this rare occasion that he'd have the opportunity to do so face-to-face. First things first however, he'd need to get a visitor's pass, and he found himself at the front reception desk a moment later. Two individuals were present behind it, both females. One looked to be older, a few wrinkles settling in around her face with some grey streaks in her hair, while the other was clearly a young intern, perhaps even still in her teens.

Approaching the older woman, Victor gave a confident little smirk as he spoke, the woman focused on the computer screen in front of her for the moment, "Excuse me ma'am, but may I get a visitor's pass?" He asked plainly and perhaps a bit too properly.

"Visitor pass?" She began, "Who are you seeing..." She trailed off as her gaze moved from her screen to the man in question, and after a moment her face seemed to brighten and somewhat match the low-key grin that Victor wore. "Well now, who have we here? Doctor Koveryn in the flesh! Been awhile, what's the occasion?" She asked immediately, scanning the former employee up and down briefly before she got the appropriate paperwork to fill out.

The younger woman seemed to raise an eyebrow and glance over to the two talking, apparently a bit surprised at the volume of conversation, though she quickly returned to her own business. Meanwhile, Victor promptly filled out the portions of the form he needed to once it was given to him. "Just going to be seeing what's changed around here, talk to a few old friends since I've got the chance, that sort of thing," he said, soon sliding the paper back to the woman. "Saint Gloriana's sensha-do team is having a little meetup and 'lunch' with the Pravda team, and I was able to come along for my own reasons. So here we are," he explained, still maintaining a small smile.

The woman behind the counter nodded as she wrote her required portions on the document and reviewed his to ensure the information was satisfactory and correct. "I see, I see. Well, you should schedule a vacation over here proper sometime so that you can catch us all outside of work hours," She said before handing Victor a rather superficial plastic card simply reading 'Approved Pravda Hospital Visitor' with some holographic effect placed over it to make it seem more official. "You take care now," she said.

"I've been meaning to look into it, but a doctor is never off duty, you know?" He replied with a weak chuckle, deciding to hold back the 'news' of his promotion since his transfer until later. They'd talk later for sure, and he gave a little wave of farewell before taking that card and begining to walk those stark hospital hallways like he owned the place. Just like the old days.

A couple brief meetings with colleagues later, however, and perhaps an hour total into his visit, he caught a figure out of the corner of his eye as he continued his walk through that deceptively maze-like building. The architects here clearly weren't the same as those who built the hospital at St. Gloriana, though that didn't matter at the moment. For now, Victor was borderline chasing a ghost. A ghost which he soon caught up to and grabbed the shoulder of, potentially somewhat harshly, especially as they elicited a slight gasp and were turned to face him.

Victor's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed, a pair of blue eyes staring back at him. Widened somewhat at first, before closing slightly after.

"You know, I think you're one of the last people I'd expect to see here Nonna," he said, stern expression still present on his face. "Especially now and at this time of day, shouldn't you be in class? Or better yet attending that student gathering?"

The girl across from him remained silent, her eyes drifting fully closed as she took a deep breath in, her eyes opening once again as she let it out. "It's good to see you again too, Doctor Koveryn," She replied simply, her characteristically neutral expression remaining mostly unshaken. "Been a little while, hasn't it?"

One of his eyebrows rose at her surprisingly collected response, "Uh-huh," was all he had to reply with himself at first. "My question still stands, shouldn't you be with the other Pravda commanders?" He continued, before his tone became a rather harsh whisper and his face leaned slightly closer to hers, "Or are you avoiding meeting the gaze of Darjeeling and the others before a battle?"

"I'd ask you the same," she quickly retorted, before her eyes slightly narrowed in response to his accusation. She didn't dare take her eyes off of his, however, giving a long blink and inhale before replying, "Why would I ever do that?" Though her resolve seemed a bit more shaken with that.

Victor had somewhat nudged Nonna so that her back was on a nearby wall - perhaps as a psychological powerplay, perhaps to not be rude and attempt to keep the hallway clear. "Don't play dumb with me," He continued in that low tone of voice, "You of all people can't have honestly forgotten what I'm talking about."

The girl was practically being tested for her self control, as she swallowed hard and blinked once more for a potentially extended period, "L-Look, I-" She silently swore at herself for the stutter, "I made a mistake," she said assuredly, though somewhat shaky in breath and trying her best to keep eye-contact with the doctor. "It... Is regrettable, but, it'd never happen again anyway. It shouldn't have happened the first time..." She trailed off, perhaps mumbling more to herself than him as her gaze drifting perhaps an inch to the right as her eyes defocused from Victor, even though her eyes were still technically aimed at him.

His head tilted slightly as he continued, intentionally or not, to mor or less break her down with things from the past - his hand still firmly gripping her shoulder. "Nonna, I'm not going to tell you what you already know, but you are aware of the possibility of what could happen if you decide to try something like that again right?"

The girl refocused on him, a look of disgust creeping into her face as her eyes slowly became somewhat glassy, "You act like I meant for it to happen," she said quietly. She was getting choked up, but she was putting forth her best possible effort to maintain control over herself. Not too dissimilar from Darjeeling's habit of keeping a level head, though Nonna perhaps had different reasons for doing so. Finally, she averted her gaze from Koveryn, her head turning full left and away from him. "B-Besides, I'm not the commander anymore, it's on Katyusha's shoulders to do what she will..."

Victor rolled his eyes slightly, before letting off a sigh and patting the sub-commander's shoulder. "I know that, I'm just making sure she doesn't take interest in the same strategy you did. I'm sure you influence her whether you know it or not." He paused, taking another breath of his own before shaking his head slowly, "She doesn't even know what happened, does she?"

Nonna shook her head in reply, her eyes closed for the moment as she continued to try and contain herself. "Not as far as I know, she was young when it happened. I'm not even sure she had an interest in sensha-do back then, and it's never talked about here anyway. Not like anyone would probably bring it up regardless..." She heavily sighed, slowly turning her head to face Victor once more as she re-established eye contact. "I'll do the best I can, but I don't think there's anything to worry about."

With a nod, the doctor moved a hand to gently rest on Nonna's head for a moment, rubbing slightly and causing her eyes to close while she exhaled - seemingly in relief. "Don't let your guard down, the worst thing that can happen is for the past to repeat itself, especially with everything Darjeeling - and I'm sure you - have been doing to quell anyone's worry on the matter." With that, he removed his hand, pocketing it before he turned and began to walk away on his own course.

Nonna nodded, eyes still closed, to his words. Slowly she came back to reality as he began to walk away, the girl quickly looking to him, "V-Victor, I-" She began, the man pausing in his walk but keeping his back turned. "I'm sorry," she said simply, still glassy-eyed but maintaining some semblance of composure.

The man stood still, though he could not form a reply of his own. As such, he simply continued walking once she said what she wanted to.

Victor cursed under his breath as he fully parted with Nonna. A simple reunion with some old colleagues and still the past came up in force, even if it was somewhat his fault bringing it up. He was justified, he figured. Perhaps confronting her directly would be the jolt she needed which would ensure the lowest possible odds of that happening again. While Victor had firsthand experience with the restructuring and aftermath of Saint Gloriana following the incident, he know it was probably no better at Pravda given their position in the whole thing. Especially Nonna in particular.

The doctor shook his head, he clearly wasn't getting away from this until the battle was finally over. All of this uncertainty over a matter which was supposed to be so clear-cut as a non-issue was starting to cause his own worry and paranoia to surface. He made a mental note for later - there was someone he needed to call. Someone who would just tell him what he already knew, but it would help to put him at ease nevertheless...


	6. Preoperative Apprehension

Darjeeling's hand slowly moved from her side to rest on her chest, before sliding up to grip her own neck. Specifically, her thumb and index finger gripped at it, reaching up near where the throat met the hinge of her jaw which was slightly open. She was checking her pulse, and breathing somewhat erratically and shallowly in the dark privacy of her bedroom. Her heart was racing, and she'd been covered in a thin layer of sweat which would've given her skin a light gloss had any light been on her. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she glanced to her bedside clock. Three in the morning. Again. She sighed, defeated and irritated. She had been waking up at this exact time feeling this same fear for the last few nights, ever since the visit of Saint Gloriana sensha-dou officers to Pravda. The trip she had planned to ease the concerns of her team as well as some of her own seemed to have the opposite effect on her. The same nightmare, or at least ones with similar circumstances, would shoot her awake in a cold sweat with her heart pounding. Sometimes she didn't even remember the dream and suffer the consequences of it nevertheless, but she was rather sure it was still the same old song and dance by now.

Another glance at the clock as she continued to mentally wake up and get back to grips with reality, attempting to ground herself at the same time. "Clock," she mumbled, before her gaze shifted to other unlit objects in the room. "Challenger two model... Floral curtains... Faux-leather office chair..." She continued, using an method of grounding she'd been instructed to use some time ago by Doctor Koveryn whenever she needed it. It was one of those things she only heard once but stuck with her ever since. Observe and name five objects you can see, observe and name four objects you can touch and feel, and finally observe and name three objects you can also taste. The latter-most tended to be the most difficult, though the conundrum of what she could touch, feel, and would be willing to put in her mouth tended to occupy her mind enough to make her calm down the rest of the way.

She soon let herself fall backwards, her back supported once more by her mattress even as her legs continued to hang over the edge. Staring up to the ceiling briefly, Darjeeling soon squinted her eyes shut, taking a sharp inhale as both of her hands moved to now cover her face. The insomnia and nightmares were things she had been keeping from Victor since they began. He was a busy man, and she could take it as far as she was concerned. Unnecessary concerns and emotions which would be equally unnecessary to bring up to him and waste his time on. A belief that she was ready to hold onto until such a time when she had completely unraveled from the pressure and stress of it, but it was unlikely for that to happen. The date on her clock was her reminder that yes, indeed, the day she was stressing over was very soon coming to pass. As a matter of fact, the ship would probably be making port in a few hours, and the process of offloading the Saint Gloriana school's tanks and moving them onto the battlefield would begin shortly thereafter. Today was indeed the day. A realization that made Darjeeling equal parts elated and shaken with fear.

Her lower lip quivered briefly before her teeth sunk into it to cause it to cease. "Can't... Let up now..." She mumbled, further muffled by her teeth bearing down on her bottom lip. Her hands then slid down her face, slowly revealing her now opened eyes once again. Looking into the blank abyss before her, her mind filled with the battle plan she had been nearly obsessing over ever since the drawing and her fears were realized. Tweaking, fine-tuning, double and triple (and quadruple) checking strategies and finding counter-strategies on her own. To say she was involved more than usual with this particular battle plan was quite apt. Something she was trying to downplay to ensure she didn't raise any suspicion from Orange-Pekoe or Assam, both to keep them calm and to ensure that they didn't suspect that she herself was afraid. Her calm cool exterior was a facade most of the time sure, but it was now more than ever. The hollow exterior of a prim and proper commander for her troops to look up to, while behind it all was, for now anyway, an anxious, paranoid girl who was developing hypertension all over one simple battle. It was stupid and petty when laid out like that, and that was the only way Darjeeling saw it. Which only served to cause her to become even more withdrawn with her true thoughts and emotions recently. Not even a professional head-shrinker could get through to her at this point even if they tried.

The blonde rolled onto her side at this stage, crawling and rolling back to rest her head on her pillow and leaving her still damp body on top of the covers as her eyes closed once more. Stripped of her elegance in the privacy of her quarters in bed in the dark, the sight of her physical form like this would have been a worthy match to her underlying psychological state - disheveled, messy, tired and a little shaky. A wave of tiredness hit her once more as the terror that had filled her minutes before had all but left her, granting her respite for another few fleeting hours of slumber before she would need to start her day anew

In spite of the growing stresses her mind was imparting on her body, Darjeeling woke up as she did every morning. Showered and brushed her teeth like she did every morning, followed with a standard dressing and breakfast just as every other morning. Though this time in her tanker uniform rather than her usual school uniform. On a day of sensha-dou, the appropriate students more or less had that whole day off from schooling and normal classes to participate in what was of course a day-long event. She fell into routine like a standard soldier, her march to school the same as it would be any other day, or with any other match. She even shoved away thoughts about the specifics of the upcoming match to try and gain some normalcy back at least for the moment. Something that had been regularly eluding her ever since the fear had more or less enveloped the school in its entirety. Or rather, fear and inquiry, which varies depending on who exactly you ask.

Paying no mind as the first period bell rang and she made her way to the hangars behind the school, her attendance being noted by one of the quiet members of staff who somewhat oversee the sensha-dou team. Oversee being the actual limit of their role, given that they're only really needed to provide some kind of 'instructor presence' and the members of the team are otherwise almost completely self-sufficient and operate with almost full independence. Something that tended to annoy those new to the position and expecting something more active...

Those other members of the team who were present, which consisted primarily of the tank commanders, were assembled near one of the back walls of the room. As was tradition by this point, Darjeeling and Assam with some input from Pekoe would form a plan preceding a match, and optimize and discuss it prior to match day. On match day directly is when the other commanders would be informed of what the final plan of attack would be. This method of planning ensured that the commanders would have the final plan in their heads securely with no overlap or second thoughts relating to ditched drafts. Assam's ability to do very in-depth number crunching and research was one of the key reasons why they were able to do this as well, eliminating the need to bring in more heads for thoughts on contingency plans or similar. Using modern technology and her own know-how, the plucky blonde could take care of it all more or less herself. Orange-pekoe and Darjeeling being the only two checks she needed to pass being more than enough to ensure any plan after a couple revisions would be workable at least, and at best they were quite simply strategy at its finest.

Though the fact that there were far less variables due to the nature of sensha-dou being the sport it was, and the fact that the girls had most all the information they could need available to them combined with their couple years of practice certainly helped make the process quicker and easier than real-world wartime circumstances. It wouldn't have surprised anyone then that the framework for this strategy was one that the group had always used for early-season matches. The rules in place already ensured that all teams could 'ease into' the new year of matches, given the reduction in the number of tanks teams were allowed to field as well as other smaller details in the rules pertaining to the first couple matches of a new season. Things like differences in battle field sizes among other more subtle things which serve to balance the generally smaller and more relaxed matches.

However, despite the relatively standard planning procedure - and even the standard nature of the plan itself down to the tanks St. Gloriana was fielding - much more thought and effort went into this particular strategy than normal. For obvious reasons, of course. What is intended to be a laid-back cool introduction to the year's matches was, for Saint Gloriana, anything but. Even to those who don't remember or outright don't know what happened previously were on-edge more than normal. They knew something was up, and that something was 'wrong' with this matchup, even if they weren't able to get any more information on the matter. Taking a muted inhale through her nose, Darjeeling calmed her nerves once more as she approached her commanders silently, listening in on the reciting of the plan by Assam silently as she let her standard smirk gently rest upon her lips. The facade would remain unshaken for as long as she could keep it up, and as far as she was concerned, it would be to her dying breath if it were to come to that. Especially now that she was with her team.

For her, it was just as more motivating as it was additionally strenuous to keep her wits about her with her fellow teammates at hand. Reciting of the plan went to answering the occasional question or concern, which lead to insurance that everyone knew the part they had to play. It was all dealt with cleanly and professionally, and soon enough boots met metal and the fleet was rolling out. The Churchill VII, four Matilda II tanks and two Crusader III tanks made their way from ship, to brow, to land, and eventually field. Darjeeling's heart was pounding once more, her hands in her lap as she did her best to sneakily gently tugged back one of her sleeves. Revealing more of her wrist, two fingers pressed down. Her pulse was quick without a doubt, her gaze falling to her hands as her eyelids somewhat lowered. Excitement and nerves were normal pre-match, but she knew this feeling of exhilaration was being driven by something else - fear. Something she had never experienced like this on the way to the battlefield. There was of course always that fear of losing, the fear of getting knocked out too early in the game, the fear of the strategy falling apart and needing to pull out a new one with hardly any time for consideration - something that Saint Gloriana admittedly wasn't all that good at doing - but this fear was different. It was less of a competitive driver to reinforce her wanting to do well, and more like what she'd been feeling the past few nights when she'd come back to reality after seeing the same nightmare play out in her head over and over...

"Darjeeling? Are you ready for your pre-match tea?" Orange-pekoe asked, her head tilted slightly with the filled teacup and saucer already in hand, offering it to her commander.

This got the blonde to snap back to her senses once again - her hand twitching away from her pulse-checking as her right hand curled into a full fist for a moment - left arm shaking slightly to incite that sleeve to cover her wrist once again. She looked up to her ginger-haired friend with a feigned smile, "Of course," she replied promptly, moving to take the aforementioned hot drink. Looking down at her reflection in the murky beverage, she could practically see her throbbing pulse shaking her hand and causing shockwaves to go through to steaming tea. She quickly brought the cup to her mouth, then, gently blowing on the surface of the liquid before taking a tentative sip and lowering the mug back onto the saucer.

Assam was typing away on her laptop meanwhile, soon closing it however and setting it off to the side when Orange-Pekoe offered her a cup of tea as well. None of the girls had their gloves on yet. There was still some time before the match began, moving into position and going through with the pre-match ceremony was a bit of a process. Still, getting on-field and being in uniform always flipped the switch that 'it was happening', and that the time for battle was coming soon.

"Commander, forgive me for asking, but are you okay this morning?" Orange-pekoe asked, having her own tea in hand as well now as she looked to the blonde a little bit sideways.

The question elicited a bit of side-eye from Assam as well, who tried to occupy herself with the tidiness of her 'workstation' meanwhile, or at least she did her best to make that seem like she was doing. The gunner was arguably one of the more important people to be present and ready for action, after all.

"For sure, just a bit of the pre-match jitters," she said dismissively. "Wonderful brew as usual, with some caffeine I hope?" She continued, attempting to somewhat shift the topic.

That only got a bit of a frown from the loader, who nodded slightly without pressing the issue. Though her brief pout was soon dismissed as she replied, "Mm-hm, the usual to help you perk up. I packed some stronger stuff too though if anyone needs it. Sleep has been hard to come by for some people recently," she said as she glanced to the side briefly - between Darjeeling and Assam as she sipped from her own mug. Said sip quite short-lived as she recoiled slightly due to the heat, red coming to her cheeks afterwards.

The display made the commander smile more genuinely and even give a short chuckle, "Good planning, I'm sure it'll be helpful. We need to be sharp to ensure we don't fizzle out during the first match of the season," She said. "I hope neither of you are letting your imaginations get to you, this match is no different from any other we've faced, even if it's a strong opponent such as Pravda." She then looked towards the front of the tank, raising her voice a bit, "That goes for you two as well!" She said, addressing her driver and radio operator.

The two up front gave affirmative gestures, though didn't make eye-contact with their commander, while Assam and Orange-Pekoe made their own best attempts at smiles. "I've run the numbers multiple times," Assam began, "they affirm what you say given past trends. We have just as good a chance now against Pravda as ever."

The feedback loop of positive assurance seemed to work well enough to raise spirits, even if a couple members of that tank crew still had a nagging feeling in the back of their minds. They couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right in spite of a lack of supporting evidence.

Regardless, time flowed on, and following the opening festivities of the match following the Pravda and Gloriana's teams reaching their respective starting locations as well as the team bow before the match, Darjeeling found herself on the fringe of battle once more. She felt one of her hands shaking in her lap, and she promptly went to clasp both of her hands together, for a moment as she took a deep breath - allowing her eyes to drift shut for a moment as she attempted to calm herself in one motion. Her expression became one of determination, and she shortly after grabbed her comms device and began transmitting to her team.

"Ladies, I have no doubt that at least some of you are perhaps anxious. Regardless of if you know the reason, about our past encounter with Pravda..." She paused, taking a breath, "Or if you merely have a fear of the unknown, I urge you to shove those feelings aside. I urge you to forget those fears and memories you may have, for they are ill-founded here, and will only serve to weigh us down. Focus instead on the plan we have carefully put together, the majority of your learned knowledge and skill - the practice you have all had in the field during your time in sensha-dou. Know that your team is always beside you, and always keep the objective in your sights. As we go into this match for this new season and year of sensha-dou, I wish for you to remember this: The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself." With that, her transmission ceased, and with silent approval from the prim and proper students to the left and right of her, Darjeeling soon heard the shrieking and popping of that flare. With that, a plethora of engines roared to life and tracks began to roll - the game was on.


	7. Biotic Complications

The flare shot into the air with a shriek, before making a loud, thumping pop. With that, the echos of the various high-torque engines on both teams were heard as they all started within seconds of one another, followed by the clanking and squeaking of tracks as the steel behemoths all began to set off at once. There was a certain energy in the air between all members of the Saint Gloriana team. An energy of fear and doubt in spite of everyone's attempts to calm each other down, and Commander Darjeeling's speech preceding the battle. However, that seemed to vanish to a large degree as the event began. Everyone fell in line, they knew their roles, they knew what they had to do and they were going to do it until told otherwise by their commander.

Relief was one way of describing it, though it would have been more apt to say that the fear of the various Saint Gloriana members had been put off. Shoved aside almost fully, albeit temporarily. But that was enough, at least for now. Not that any of the commanders present had any choice but to accept that fact.

"Rosehip here, scouting west!" Came a chipper voice over the radio as the Crusader III to the rear left of the formation broke off to go its own way.

"Vanilla here, headed to the eastern hill. Will notify when we're in position," followed a more calm and professional voice as the opposing Crusader III on the rear right of the formation broke off in a mirrored fashion to the first, leaving the main heavy group of the Churchill VII flag tank with two Matilda IIs either side of it.

The slow, crawling advance of the heavy tanks - which were, in all truth, still painfully slow infantry tanks - allowed the students within them to get comfortable for the long-haul. On the field, Saint Gloriana's starting point was more or less center-south. On the opposing side of the field on the northern tip was a long beach as well as a small, quite old town of sorts. That was the eventual goal for Saint Gloriana - to get there before Pravda was able to, and set up a strong defense against them.

It was no secret that the mobility of the Saint Gloriana mainstay fleet - that being the Matildas and Churchill - were quite horribly lacking. This made the idea of a defensive position with plenty of hard cover and narrow sight-lines much more preferable than a fight in the open fields like they were in now. If they were to engage out here, they would be outflanked and taken down in less than a few minutes given how slow their reaction times were given the vehicles they were piloting.

Thankfully, there was small chance of encountering the enemy so early, as while there was no trees or hedges in sight beyond a variable wall of the stuff around the town, hills were abundant. More specifically one somewhat large one, which the cluster of five British giants were soon scaling the side of.

"Matilda crews, keep your eyes open. We don't have much cover until we get to the village and even there we're not exactly covering our modesty," Darjeeling said over the radio.

"Understood, commander," was the reply she received from the allies on her flanks.

"Rosehip, Vanilla, what's your status?" She soon inquired as the five heavies finally crested that hill - soon leveling out and approaching the aforementioned village. It was a small abandoned location with a handful of rotting wooden buildings. Some cover was better than no cover, but it wouldn't put Darjeeling any more at ease. Not until they were at the town proper.

"Rosehip reporting! We've not seen anything yet, we're almost around the with access to that side road. Will keep in touch," Was the first answer.

"Vanilla here, we've arrived to the cliff road, we're about midway up. Should have eyes on your surroundings in a minute," came the next shortly after.

Darjeeling nodded to herself slowly, "Very good, be safe," she said before letting off a huff and leaning back in her seat. Her heart was pounding, though it was somewhat ignorable for the moment.

"Some more tea, Commander?" Inquired Orange-Pekoe kindly, offering another cup and saucer of a fresh brew.

The blonde offered a small smile before sitting upright and taking the cupper and beginning to sip on it, "Thank you."

The ginger-haired girl nodded and returned the smile in kind.

The five heavies positioned themselves in the village as quick as they could - having a wide field of view over the open field that sprawled atop the hill they now resided on. One Matilda pair was faced north-north-west poking out one side of the village, while the Churchill VII was nestled further inward in an attempt to hide. Another Matilda was aimed due north, while the last one was aimed north-north-east.

The town was the goal, and they were only about a third of the way there - and even getting this far had taken maybe ten or fifteen minutes - they were stopped at the village. Here, the British bulk waited with quiet impatience for both Crusader teams to do some more in-depth recon. Mainly, they were waiting for Vanilla to reach her point, as once she was there they would have a bird's-eye view of the battlefield. A move made out of necessity and the want to have as safe a match as possible.

Without Vanilla spying from atop that cliff, it would be quite easy for Saint Gloriana to shuffle unknowingly into an ambush and be out-maneuvered and swiftly destroyed. An outcome which would be quite undesirable. However, after a few more moments of an absolutely deafening silence, Darjeeling's ears were graced with the voice saying the very words she wanted to hear - "Vanilla has arrived to grid G-5, establishing visual."

However, her relief was quite temporary, as the Crusader that was sent west was quick to report in as well, "Rosehip again! We've gone up the west side of the hill high right of grid C-5 and we're on the six's of two T-34 76s! They've not seen us but I think they have visual on you guys!"

The defending western Matilda's turned their gaze towards the taller hill which was near the village. A smaller hill on another hill, really. Then more bad news, "Vanilla has spotted the main force of Pravda's team! They're flanking around the hill and are climbing from the entire eastern quadrant!"

Once again, the commander took a steadying breath, raising her cup of tea to her mouth as she allowed her eyes to drift shut for a mere second in the process. Both being done in an effort to calm herself and put some thought in what their next move would be.

"It's encirclement then," Assam stated flatly, turning the turret of the Churchill to their more exposed eastern side in preparation for enemy fire. It was at this point that she was able to make visual contact with the reds. One T-34-85 to the north-east, another directly east, and coming up somewhat behind them to the south- and south-south-east respectively were the IS-2 and KV-2.

Fire was going to begin to be exchanged any second now, and as Darjeeling removed the cup of tea from her mouth she opened her eyes, glancing at her reflection in the dark liquid once more. "Rosehip, engage. Try to distract them more than going for the kill, that will prevent them from having power on the encirclement from the west."

"Affirmative, engaging!" Came a quick reply before semi-distant cannonfire was heard. The first shots of the battle.

Darjeeling hardly stopped to take a breath as she continued, "Vanilla, do not engage. If they start firing on you and we lose you then we've lost one of our best assets in this battle. Do your best to remain inconspicuous while keeping as many tabs on enemy positions as possible."

"Understood," was the brief response that followed.

"Everyone else, face the enemy to the east and begin pulling back slowly. If we can hold them off we'll be able to make it on the road to the town to continue the plan as intended - it seems none of their force has opted to occupy," She finished, assuming the flag tank was near one of the two tank groups participating in this strategy, though she didn't exactly have time to check.

The drivers of the hardened British steel cases obeyed their commander - the Matilda IIs and Churchill VII soon all facing the eastern front while reversing. The incredibly slow speeds of the infantry tank's reverse gears allowing this while maintaining a smooth target picture. The eastern Pravda force began firing, and Gloriana returned following.

Darjeeling kept her head on a swivel looking through the various ports in her commander's cupola. What she saw was nothing less than impending doom as what was left of that wood-built village was either crushed under the tracks of the advancing or retreating tanks, or blown to bits by half-aimed or totally blind shots being hurled to and fro. One particular glancing blow that could have probably ended up knocking out a tank being a wild shot by the KV-2, which rather than hitting a tank struck the ground leaving a crater and causing a shockwave that blew over most of the surrounding wooden buildings.

Needless to say, this was affecting Darjeeling's cool somewhat. They couldn't reverse any quicker, and Pravda certainly was advancing closer much quicker. The blonde swiveled her head around, looking desperately for anywhere that her team could potentially dig in hull-down to try and fight off at least some of Pravda's forces and make their own opening. Much to her dismay, however, the hilltop was flat as could be - save for the craters now being made by the exchange in fire that was going on.

Gripping her teacup tightly, she was about ready to make her call, before she looked 'forward' to the opposing Pravda tanks once again. She started to open her mouth, before her eyes widened as she saw one T-34 85 seemingly rushing to the left of the Churchill. "Assam! Target left, coming fast!"

No sooner did she say those words then did Assam instantly jab her hand to the turret controls to rotate the gun. Her sights soon fell on the charging T-34, and her eyes seemed to become glossed-over as she aimed true before pulling the trigger and sending a 75 millimeter shell flying directly at the tank's turret ring. The shell became lodged, and soon enough the gun on the Russian classic went seemingly limp as the vehicle's onboard damage recognition system declared that a kill shot. The engine bay behind the thing puffed smoke, and the white flag sprung from the top of the turret, but... The thing was still barreling at full speed towards the side of the Churchill VII.

From shock, to the shot being fired, to the landing shot being a knockout, to the realization that they still weren't saved, in reality took place over the course of two seconds or less. However, for everyone in the heavy infantry tank, most specifically Assam and Darjeeling, it felt like an eternity. An hour as one emotion faded into the next, going through the spectrum before being left with a proper fear not unlike what they'd started with.

Soon enough however, the strike hit home - shaking the occupants of the Mark VII off-balance as the T-34 rammed solidly into the left side of the Churchill and caused the tank's rear to skid to the right by a number of feet. The thing almost ramped up and off the side of the infantry tank, as a matter of fact. Having left a sizable dent in the Churchill's side, but not disabling it, that made Darjeeling's decision for her.

Taking a couple quick breaths and looking around the crew compartment briefly to ensure everyone was alright - which they were, albeit rather literally shaken - Darjeeling once again piped up on the radio. "Ma-Matildas two and three, halt your retreat! Matildas one and four, begin turning around, we're going to turn around and continue retreating. After the Churchill is turned and moving, Matildas two and three will join us and cover our rear. We're going to make a break for the road to the town, then continue on in and execute the plan. Keep your turrets rotated at the enemy and keep firing, don't give them a chance to think about following us!" She said quickly, calmness having left her, being replaced now with urgency. Though a prudent woman could still be an elegant one, right?

Acknowledgements followed her issuing of that command, and tank hulls began rotating against turrets as suppressive fire was maintained from both sides. The transition, while quite nerveracking, went off with no casualties - and soon the quintuplet of British beasts were rolling at their full speed away from the pursuing Russian bears. Though Pravda's force didn't seem to be gaining much ground, something that Darjeeling found quite odd given that it was most certainly in their power to do so.

Nearly to the road which would bring them off the plains hill and hopefully into the safety of the town and under the cover of more than a few trees and bushes, Darjeeling's pulse was finally calming down a little - as were those of most of her teammates. Even if Pravda holding off and seemingly not trying to catch them was suspect, they would have a much better chance of survival in the town regardless. However, a crackling signal soon came in on the comms, "R-Rosehip here... We took down one of the T-34 76s up top, but the other one got us, sorry..."

Darjeeling's brow furrowed, and she winced slightly. They were one loss against two, but Pravda being Pravda meant that the loss of one T-34 would just mean that the KV-2 or IS-2 would make up for it. "You bought us enough time to almost fully secure our escape, they may have been able to complete the encirclement if it wasn't for you. Rest easy on the trip back home," She assured the normally energetic girl.

"Affirmative, commander!" Was her final reply.

Darjeeling wasn't lying, without Rosehip's distraction the encirclement could have very well ended up being much more asphyxiating to options which would have prevented this way out. Still, every loss in this match was going to tear at Darjeeling. Things had been going relatively normal, but that ramming... That made the blonde shiver on the spot to think about. A rarely employed tactic with questionable effectiveness, there's no way that was just coincidence, was it?

She snapped out of her thoughts quickly however as through the commander's cupola she spotted the white glow of a shell coming from the their right side. That was the direction of the taller hill where Rosehip had been knocked out, and upon looking in that direction, Darjeeling saw another Pravda perched on top taking pot shots in addition to their pursuers. Briefly, Darjeeling's breaths quickened, and soon enough her fears were realized once more as the plunging fire from that T-34 on the ridge allowed it to get a rather clear shot at the engine bay of one of the Matilda II tanks covering the rear of the Churchill. A puff of smoke and some fire, a pop of a white flag, it was out. Another tank down. Now the scores were even.

Slowly, Darjeeling slid down on her butt into her seat once again, moving her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead as she once again briefly pondered with her tea. Though her thoughts were soon interrupted as she felt the tank turning onto the road. They made it, and were finally en route to what should have been sanctuary, even though Pravda was still firing at them from behind. The pale, somewhat tan grass was quickly becoming green - and foliage of all types quickly surrounded the tank as they continued to near the town.

Standing and looking to the rear of the Churchill once more, Darjeeling squinted. "They're... Not following us?" She mumbled to herself, stating what she saw. The Pravda tanks were still on the hill, all lined up firing occasionally at the escaping British tanks, but not giving chase down the road. The blonde blinked before turning and taking her seat once again, once again in thought for a moment before she spoke, "Vanilla, what are you seeing from your position? Are any of the Pravda tanks we just engaged breaking off or moving around?"

"Negative commander, they're staying put on the edge of the hill shooting into the woods - at you, I presume," the Crusader III commander replied promptly, and with an enviable level of cool-headedness given she was so far from the action.

The blonde blinked once more, glancing around idly at nothing while her brow remained furrowed. She was rather confused, it seemed, "How many tanks are up there?" Was her next question. In all the excitement, it slipped her mind to count them or even look for the flag tank.

"I count six including those knocked out, that's all but one," Vanilla replied.

"All but the flag tank," Darjeeling added with a hint of venom in her voice. Soon, however, her annoyed frown curled into a smirk. "Ohh, they would've left it in the town..." She mumbled, before grinning broadly. "Wonderful, if this is right then we may have a chance to end this on our terms relatively quickly!"

Orange-pekoe rose an eyebrow and tilted her head at that, "Darjeeling? You okay?" She asked simply. Such a polarized shift in mood was hardly normal, especially in Darjeeling.

"Vanilla, I need you to move from grid G-5 up to G-2 or so, get an overlook of the town and see if you can get a visual on their flag tank, but try to keep an eye on the rest of the Pravda team so you can warn us about when they advance," She continued, brushing off Pekoe's questioning for now.

"Affirmative, moving to position," the remaining Crusader commander replied promptly before she began to mobilize - driving further along that large, long cliff edge.

Clipping the radio mic back onto the receiver, Darjeeling's expression of renewed optimism was soon being presented to Orange-pekoe directly. "Don't you know what this means? That's one dinky T-34 against three Matilda IIs and our Churchill VII. One on four, and in such close quarters it'd be a pretty quick and easy decider for sure!" Her elation was quite evident, though it was questionable if even she knew it was just for the chance to make the match finally end rather than the chance to win as such.

Pekoe nodded, still having a neutral expression on her face, "Yes, but don't you think they would've planned for that? And besides, this is a town, it's all cramped narrow streets and stuff save for that plaza, and a T-34 moves and turns way quicker than any of our tanks can. And that's even if it's there in the first place." She said, trying her best to ground Darjeeling. Something she hadn't needed to do in what felt like years... At least in a battle. As far as grounding on a regular basis in other pursuits went, that was a whole different story.

Darjeeling let out a huff of air through her nostrils, maintaining a now more sedate expression of assuredness. "We would only need to hit it once in the right spot at that distance - any of us - and I've known Katyusha ever since she became the commander at Pravda. She never makes backup plans." With that, Darjeeling had a generous few sips of her now lukewarm tea before getting on the radio once more. "Slight change of plan - we have reason to believe that Pravda's flag tank is present in the town. Assuming it is, and we see it, all tanks are to fire and pursue. We need to try to end this quickly before the rest of their team arrives to assault the town, which they will sooner or later, and if that happens, we're rolling the dice on how long we'll be able to hold out."

New orders issued, Darjeeling sat back in her seat, sipping at her tea with more vigor before finally, after much delay, they had arrived to that town. Rolling in on the route they were driving on, Saint Gloriana was greeted with the sight of mostly ruined but still mostly standing hard brick and stone buildings - arranged in tight rings following the roads around the center of the town which was the most open location which also housed an old church. Driving straight in to the center, each tank in order diverged to one side or another in the arena-like area. The first tank went left, the next right, the next left, and the final right. The pairs drove around the perimeter of the circle, eyes peeled, having both almost covered the diameter combined is when they saw it. The dark green T-34-85 with that dark green flag sticking up on it.

There was a pause as everyone present - including the occupants of the T-34 - realized what was happening, what they were seeing, and what it all meant. For those in the Russian tank, the thoughts of 'oh no' as well as 'someone hit the gas' and 'where's the rest of the team?' were the most prevalent. For those in the British tanks, it was safe to say that most everyone had the same idea: 'Shoot it now.'

After this particular session of an illusory eternity had passed, the opposite effect seemed to occur - everything was a rush. To say that the Saint Gloriana tanks present got tunnel vision on this T-34 would have been an understatement. The display of four heavy, slow tanks firing and missing at extreme close ranges at what was by comparison a high-performance car speeding around around dodging fire was a sight that the folks at home would have most likely quite enjoyed.

It may have been prudent to note, as well, that while only final matches were nationally televised, exhibition matches and general tournament matches preceding the finals were typically filmed and broadcasted to the communities of the respective participating teams live before being aired across the country after the fact on those venues concerned with the sport.

Tactics and plans fell apart during the frenzy to chase down that T-34, weeks of anxiety, paranoia and general worry having surfaced on nearly everyone. Calm and collected, considerate and elegant, it was all gone. The overwhelming desire to get this whole match over with - and to win, preferably - overriding all other thoughts. At least on those who mattered.

It felt like mere minutes had gone by when Darjeeling heard that voice over the radio during the frantic scrambling to secure that one lucky hit on the T-34, knocking it out and ending this torment finally. "Commander! Darjeeling!"  
It was Vanilla, and the blonde snapped somewhat back to reality, grabbing the mic and speaking promtply, "Va-Vanilla, what is it? Are you okay?" She asked quickly, somewhat taken aback.

"Pravda is closing in on your position! Repeat, tanks are coming in from-" The distant firing of a 122 millimeter cannon followed by a heavy, echoing metal crunch answered the question of what happened to Vanilla before Darjeeling could even ask it to herself. She stood there frozen for now, feeling her heart descend in her body as it throbbed once more. Optimism had gone in its entirety, and push was about to come to shove.

"Need to get out," She thought, quietly speaking the words without meaning to before she spoke up over the radio once more. "Everyone! Vanilla is down and we have the Pravda force moving in on our position! We need to get out of here!"

It was almost like the voice of someone issuing orders over a radio was something that just about all the Saint Gloriana students was in tune with. Similarly to the clearing effect it had on Darjeeling moments ago, her remaining units snapped out of their own focused, fruitless chases of that T-34, and began to scatter. Unfortunately, while they shared Darjeeling's moment of clarity, it seems that her following wave of anxiety and panic wasn't special either. To compound that, the handful of exits out of the arena-like center of that town were now acting as ports to pour in Pravda tanks. Every single route out one by one was blocked and occupied by a Russian-built behemoth.  
Darjeeling's head stuck up in the cupola, and she scanned around, audibly gasping as she, and her remaining team mates, were getting encircled - expertly cut off from escape by walls of stone and Russian steel. What was meant to be their fortress of protection had quickly transformed into an execution chamber. It was the turn of Pravda to issue focus fire now. One Matilda down, then two, and soon three. Darjeeling was hyperventilating by this point, watching her comrades sprout white flags and give off wimpy puffs of smoke. Helpless to do anything but get knocked out.

"Th-The church!" Darjeeling shouted, shaking, and turning to see the building through one of the cupola's ports. Just like Miho and company used in their match against Pravda! Even if many more of the circumstances were different, but one of those circumstances happened to be that the church, like every other building in this town, was caved in - the roof fell in and it had filled with debris years and years ago. The blonde plopped on her chair, looking around erratically. She was losing herself.

Her crew seemed to be doing the same, though Assam and Orange-Pekoe in particular were the closest to functional. The tank was not moving, but the gun was. Moving, firing, reloading, repeat. Darjeeling could only sit and watch. This was all feeling far too familiar. She was in this very spot, in this same situation, she couldn't deny it anymore. Years ago, Assam hadn't yet been attending, Orange and Darjeeling herself were fresh off the block - Orange still in her current role while Darjeeling was the gunner. Earl Grey was the commander, but she didn't crack like this. Not that it mattered.

A deafening ding hit everyone in the crew cabin, sending ears ringing as Darjeeling twitched. The commander's eyes went glassy, that was a knockout blow, but alas - the tank was still operating. No white flag popped. No puff of smoke ejected from the engine cooling fans. Then another ding. And another. And another. The Churchill was getting hammered left right and center, paint scraping, metal heating from being stricken repeatedly by projectiles, all the while Assam kept firing fruitlessly, and Orange kept loading even though she must've caught on like Darjeeling had.

It was hopeless. The girl's blue eyes began to drip tears down the sides of her face as the deafening firing of the KV-2's gun at ten meters made a huge dent in the side of the Churchill's turret. Several smaller dents had since formed in many other places around the hull, but they were all getting bigger. Still no white flag. Eventually, the KV-2 reloaded again, and fired once more. Darjeeling couldn't hear anything, and after that, she couldn't see either. Her world became white, then black. Shrapnel had been flung into the crew compartment, like a grenade going off it sent fragments big and small of metal everywhere - nobody was spared. Darjeeling could feel the stabbing, the coldness setting in as heat left her body around her fresh wounds. Is this how Earl Grey felt? She wondered to nobody but herself. She had quickly blacked out, trapped in her own mind.

While standards for sensha-dou safety had been checked, revised, improved and tested constantly and continually ever since its initial inception, there were still holes in the safety regulations. Holes, mistakes, unforeseen circumstances, all which lead to events like this. A tank outfitted for sensha-dou was layered with carbon for extra rigidity and to make sure that fragmentation shrapnel was a non-issue. Not to mention the armor that these tanks were built with in the first place. No tanks fire armor penetrating shells during matches, either. They're all soft-tipped, designed to bounce or crumple upon impact with armor. Advanced computers on the tanks would do calculations for the hit, determine where the shell landed and what caliber it was, and how much force it hit with, to determine if a tank is to be knocked out or not - meaning when the white flag deploys and the engine puffs up in smoke to clearly indicate a knockout.

When this system fails to work properly, as can happen through abnormal sustained damage or something as simple as the computer being wired wrong or slipping free, there's no indication that a tank is knocked out. As such, when you have five or six tanks firing round after round at the same parts of a tank nearly point-blank, even with these soft-tipped shells, things will strain, bend, and eventually break.


	8. Hallucinations

Darjeeling's eyes shot wide open, and she was greeted with white. She was laying on her back, but she wasn't on anything. Floating through a void of bright nothingness, yet she still felt a pull of gravity. She looked around frantically, though when she moved she was quick to stop herself. She winced, reaching to slowly grab the right side of her waist with her left hand. Her breath quickly became shaky as she brought that hand near to her face. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was covered in red, and tears began to fill her eyes and blur her vision before she threw that hand aside and her eyelids clamped shut. She clenched her teeth, her breathing had become forcibly shortened - shallow inhales being almost immediately cancelled out by what felt like forced, almost instinctive wheezing.

"I'm not supposed to be here..." She said through her locked jaw, opening her eyes once more. What was once a white expanse had become a grey, sparsly decorated hallway, and she was unpleasantly blinded by a fluorescent light looking straight up. She was on the floor, and moved to sit up, only to have pain shoot through her body once again. She looked down, large shards of steel had pierced the side of her torso - her red sensha-dou uniform being darker than usual around the puncture wounds. The gradual dripping from the affected area forming a red puddle on the floor, as well.

At least now she was somewhere, and she looked around, "This... Isn't right," she deduced out loud. There were walls behind her, in front of her, and to her left. Her right, however, seemed to see the hallway stretch on indefinitely into a bright white mist. As a silver lining, she didn't feel like she was going to pass out anymore, and while she did feel a bit of a chill she wasn't ice cold like before. Small favors. She pushed herself back, sliding a bit across the smooth tile floor to allow her back to rest on the wall.

"Pekoe! Assam! Someone, help!" She cried, though to no avail. All she got in return was the echo of her own pleas back at herself. Her attention soon turned down at herself once more and her rather pressing wounds which had caused the puddle below her to grow larger in such a short time. She moved her hand to grab one of the large metal shards - most of them being at least as big as her first, others quite a bit bigger than that - when she heard a noise that wasn't produced by her.

A clacking in the rhythm of footsteps. Right, left, right, left... She looked up from her wounds, now staring down the hallway - the one direction that would be available for her to go. She saw a dark silhouette approaching from the distant white mist, one which caused her brow to furrow as it got gradually closer. The figure had a rather bulky outline, soon explained by the presence of a cloak that seemed to drape over most of their body. Higher was a long slender beak extending from their face, soon revealed to be made of leather and accompanied by a mask which obscured the whole of the individual's face. Topped off with a very wide-brimmed hat which also seemed to be of leather construction.

"I wouldn't bother with those if I were you, they're keeping you corked up right now so it may be best to leave it," they soon said in what was a rather thick Russian accent. Soon they stopped, mere feet from Darjeeling. There was no mistake this was a plague doctor of old, though the black leather clothing that he seemed to be sporting wasn't the most authentic looking thing.

Darjeeling merely stared, soon removing her hand - with some moderate hesitation - from one of the pieces of metal jutting out of her midsection. She kept her eyes on the doctor, bewildered and unsure of what to say for the longest while. Soon however, the mysterious figure held out their own leather-gloved hand without a word.

"I'm not supposed to be here," she soon said. "Can you take me to the place I'm supposed to be?" She then inquired, reaching to intertwine her own gloved fingers with his before she pulled herself up with some effort, and a surprisingly minimal amount of pain.

Even while standing the figure was at least a head higher than her, and he replied flatly "That depends on you, doesn't it?" Before he turned around and began to walk back into the mist from whence he came.

Darjeeling simultaneously did and did not understand what he meant by that. It was a similar feeling to the one also scratching the back of her mind that she knew who this plague doctor was by his voice, but she couldn't place that either. There were many things she didn't know right now, and the daze that had since settled in on her wasn't helping. Regardless, she followed him almost instinctively, even as she fell behind and lost sight of him in the mist - soon losing herself in it as well once her vision became filled with white once more.

She felt blind, like she was walking with her eyes closed and stumbling around, ready to fall on her face any second. Though in spite of this she kept going, and eventually after one particular blink she found herself staring herself in the mirror. A full height mirror which she recognized as the one from her dorm room, even if it seemed quite out of place in this white expanse. She was standing and looking somewhat normal save for the blood staining her uniform, though there was no metal sticking out of her now so that was a marked improvement. She saw black to her left, and glancing over there was the plague doctor standing beside her. She didn't consider to ask why he had no reflection.

"What do you see?" He asked simply.

"I see myself," she replied.

"Of course you do. But who is that in the mirror?" He asked again.

Darjeeling was almost unphased as the reflection of herself changed, going from her as she was now to a slightly shorter and seemingly younger her - this time just in the standard school uniform with her same blonde hair and blue eyes, albeit with her hair down instead of in the elaborate braids she sported nowadays. "That's-" She began, but figured to say her again would be wrong. She considered for a moment, the man beside her speaking up again.

"Who is that?" He repeated.

The jaded blonde looked down to the floor, "A younger me?" She answered, unsure, before looking to her left at the doctor who used a hand to turn her head forward once again.

"I'll tell you what I see - a young, bright, expressive little girl with a good future ahead of her," he then said.

Darjeeling had nothing to add as she stared on, she wasn't quite sure what to garner from any of this. However, once again the reflection changed right before her eyes. Growing into a more developed young lady with the same blonde hair and blue eyes, but looking lower, she'd notice her leg wasn't exactly normal, and her hair was still not done up in those braids. People always did say Earl Grey and Darjeeling looked as well as acted quite alike. This caused the girl's eyes to widen slightly, but still, she had no words.

A hand gripped her shoulder, and she snapped her head to the left to greet the gaze of that plague doctor. "Do you understand?" Was his simple question.

She couldn't speak. Not because she didn't want to, or didn't have anything to say, but she felt a choking in her throat. Fear in its purest form had gripped her tightly, almost literally getting her by the neck, and she had no idea why.

"You asked if I could take you to the place you were supposed to be, I said that depends on you. Specifically, who are 'you'? Where are 'you' supposed to be?" His grip softened, and his gloved hand slid off her shoulder soon after.

She took a deep breath, feeling herself calm almost immediately as that surge of fear drained from her in surprisingly record time. "I-I'm-" Her throat was dry, "Darjeeling of the Saint Gloriana Girls' College, overall commander for their sensha-dou team and... Friend of Orange-Pekoe, Assam, others... I practice the core principles of the school - to be elegant and graceful at all times, to never show frustration or fear, to-"

"That's a shallow self-description," He cut her off coldly, having since crossed his arms. "When judging and identifying one's self that way, you could replace that name with half of your peers and not be too far off the mark. Of course you follow the tenants of the school, you have status and a rank on the sensha-dou team, but is that really you? Is that all to Darjeeling?" He continued flatly.

The girl was getting vibes of familiarity from the plague doctor the more he spoke, and this conversation itself felt uncanny, but still she couldn't place the actual origins of either. "Would you rather I dye my hair and be a rebel? Pick up a hobby outside of sensha-dou to occupy my spare time?" She snapped.

He shook his head, "That's not what I'm suggesting. You need to ensure that what defines you is something that you're in control of, to not be a part of some external checklist of specifications to fit a specific form-factor. Act like yourself, think like yourself, within reason. Don't let your whole identity become determined by someone else's agenda."

"Schools have standards and rules, I'm conforming to those just as any other student would. I have my own interests and hobbies I pursue in my off-time, even if most of that off-time is spent with sensha-dou," she retorted.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" He asked, sounding a bit frustrated before he held up a closed fist before bringing up a finger, "You banish all emotion and downplay even positive ones when talking with others." A second finger came up, "You are now the commander for the sensha-dou team and try your hardest to maintain this self-titled facade through battle at all times." A third finger rose, "You have no coping mechanism for stress which is remotely effective." A fourth, "If you were to face anything near genuine danger - like in this past match - you practically break down because the stress is overflowing out of you." Then the arm dropped to his side before he took a step forward, and both of his hands went to smack on either one of her cheeks as he tugged her face slightly closer to his - which still wasn't close due to the skewer hazard he was wearing. "Don't play dumb, you know exactly what I'm talking about. We've had this conversation before, and now you're bringing it up again to question yourself because some part of you realizes this isn't healthy."

Familiarity was still not something that was flashing in Darjeeling's mind. She couldn't recall where this was all coming from even though it was on the tip of her tongue. Or was she trying to not remember? She shook her head, scowling at the man before her, "I thought you were going to help me out of here, not try to make me swallow your assertions of my identity," she hissed.

He was still at that, and silent. Completely rigid, before his hands slowly removed themselves from the sides of her head. Her arms were crossed now as she continued glaring back at the primarily leather-clad figure. However, this only lasted for a moment, as suddenly and quickly, he reeled his hand back and moved to slap her right on the side of the face. With force, at that.

The girl twitched, and shut her eyes instinctively, but the hit that was so clearly telegraphed never came. She held her eyes shut for some time before slowly opening them once more, noting the plague doctor's hand resting centimeters from her cheek without making contact.

"No matter what you do, or what you say, I'm only ever trying to help you. I can only hope that you can find it in you to help yourself. I can do no more for you, Darjeeling. Not if you aren't willing to go further." He said as his arm returned to rest at his side, and he took a few steps back, seemingly being himself enveloped by the white mist.

Before Darjeeling could compose herself enough to just speak, he had gone. Her eyes were somewhat widened with shock, and in his absence, her lower lip began to quiver. Her eyelids lowering somewhat as her vision grew blurry once more. Tears weren't quite running down her face yet, but that would come. She gripped her own arms tightly, her knees coming together as she slowly slid down onto the ground. She was hunched forwards slightly, the wave of sadness overwhelming her. She didn't know why...

Except that was a lie. She knew full well why she was feeling like this. In fact it was her rejection of acknowledging this problem that was causing her this sadness in this moment. "I know... What you're trying to tell me," she said to the long gone figure. "I think I even know who you are, but confronting this isn't... 'optimal'," she tried to explain it away to herself but that wasn't happening. "I think I even know who you are, but I can't be... Can't be her... She was my teacher, she was grooming me to take her place, what had happened happened and that's the end of it right?" She said aloud to the nothing that surrounded herself.

She shook her head, "Stress is normal especially in this sport, I should be able to deal with it myself- No, I have dealt with it myself, it's... There's no problem, I'm-" She couldn't even form a sentence without interrupting herself. The turmoil within her between the side of her trying to maintain the flawed execution of ideals she had grown to uphold and the side of her that knew she was falling apart by going about it in this way.

She soon found herself curled up on her side on the 'floor', eyes soon closing as her mind began spiraling wildly in both directions. The acknowledgement of her problem clashing with the barrier of denial she had been maintaining for years now.

This almost all fell from her at once however as her eyes darted open and she found her way back in her actual body. Eyes wide as she took a deep breath - filling her chest cavity with air and wincing at the pain. Her whole body was aching, and she was hooked up to more wires and tubes, than she could count. Her eyes darted left and right, and soon down at her body. She was under a blanket, wearing a patient gown, and looking up and around she was in a hospital room and laying in a matching bed. She heard quiet consistent beeping from the heart monitor, and much of her vision was taken up by the tube curling around to meet her face and provide her with pure, lovely air.

A certain mental clarity was about her now that she didn't have before - the assurance that this was reality, and the realization that where she was before was a dream. Even if that clarity came with her body in so much pain she wasn't planning on moving at all and she felt a throbbing headache. She was panicked at first but quickly came to a calm, her eyes half-closed at its peak. She was alive, she was here in the hospital, and judging by a glance out of the window it was night. Her eyes flicked to the other side of the room, a large glass wall and sliding door with half-closed blinds for her privacy. She was alone in this room, and she found her eyes closing once more.

She was clearly alive and healing, but a tear formed as she was unsure of the fate of her team mates, and there was no way that she'd be able to just ignore what happened in her head. Not when she had been given so much time to think alone...


	9. Trauma

Darjeeling took a sharp breath inward as her eyes shot open once more, and she was brought once more out of her dreams and nightmares into be face to face with reality once more. Though one might argue that her current 'reality' was a nightmare in itself. In a cold sweat, she briefly observed her surroundings, her eyes the only part of her body actually visibly moving besides maybe her chest. Wires for monitoring devices were hooked up and tangled around her, as well as various tubes to provide her air, fluids, and what ever else the Saint Gloriana physicians saw fit to pipe into her ailed form. A heaviness immediately overcame her eyelids, her heart quickly calming down - something she could both feel and hear given the beeping of the monitor near her head.

She tried to move her arm, something that was met with resistance from her aching muscles which caused her to wince. Even the slow and short movement of dragging her arm nearer to her side proved to come with the obvious signs that she wasn't in great condition. Not to mention the stiffness that was ensuing due to her borderline catatonic state which had lead to a lack of movement for what must've been days, though she wasn't entirely sure. She hadn't even spoken to anyone since before she got here. Any company she had in the form of friends or medical staff had come when she was either trapped in her head, or barely energetic enough to keep her eyes open. Obviously in either case she wasn't exactly in a state to chat as much as she'd wanted to.

What she really wanted was some coffee to get herself out of this horribly low-energy state. She felt like a zombie. She was tired, unable to move, and everything hurt. She also knew she wasn't mentally firing on all cylinders either, given how it sometimes took her minutes to identify where she was and that she was actually awake instead of stuck in her head. Her throat was dry, and she swallowed to no avail, glancing and moving her neck slightly left and right to see if there was anything in arms reach to fix that. Annoyingly, both side-tables were devoid of any fluids, though she did spot a note on one table to her left. She blinked a couple times before taking a breath, and she tried to move her left arm for the first time in what, again, must've been days.

Aches and general pains ensued, though with some effort and patience she was able to move the limb from her side to be outstretched at her side. It was a slow, lengthy process, but eventually she had the note in hand and brought it nearer to her face - half-lidded blue eyes soon scanning the parchment.

"Darjeeling, don't you dare try to get up. I know once you're able to actually read this yourself you'll probably be trying to move all at once and get back into the fray. Stay put, wait for me to come to you, and don't worry about Assam or Pekoe - they're in the hospital being cared for too," Signed Victor.

The blonde huffed and let her hand with the note fall onto her stomach with a smack, which promptly caused her to silently wince once again. She glanced down, though didn't see much of anything given she was covered in the drab light-blue hospital bed sheets. Moving with all the speed and elegance of a crane, Darjeeling's left hand was on the move once more, grabbing and slightly tugging the bedding off of herself so that more of her midsection was exposed. She then moved to pull up her the similarly light blue shirt she had on to reveal what she expected to be the bare skin of her belly, but instead what she found was a rather hefty amount of gauze and tape wrapped around her. Mostly on her right side where, how could she forget, she had a few large shards of steel sticking out of her previously.

Her right hand and arm moved now, giving signs of distress similar to the opposite limb given her heavily damaged state. It didn't move far though, her hand gently pressing against the thin cotton bandages that were covering what was likely a large wound. Said wound seemed to extend from her hip all the way up to her second-to-bottom rib judging by the placement of those bandages. Her right arm went limp once more before she weakly slid it further from herself while her left hand moved to pull her shirt down to cover herself once more.

Moments later came a knock on the door which startled Darjeeling slightly, though she didn't so much as twitch with how locked up her body was right now - her eyes merely glancing to the door as it opened seconds later following the lack of reply. In came a familiar face, Victor, and the girl suddenly felt awash with emotion. Her jaw and lips quivered slightly as she felt water welling up in her eyes, though she wasn't yet sure quite why.

The Russian seemed to take note, however, as he strode across the room with some urgency - his closeness soon causing Darjeeling to extend her left hand unsteadily before it was gripped by the man and she found herself leaning towards him. She practically pulled him closer, her arms wrapping around his back the best they could with her life-sustaining restraints as her face nuzzled into his chest. Her breath became shaky and she felt tears begin to flow as his arms soon wrapped around her in return.

She couldn't speak, partly due to her dry throat, but also more importantly due to her current distress. The source of which she still couldn't quite pinpoint, and to say she was rather upset about that in itself was probably a light way of putting it. Her wall had crumbled, the facade she had kept up to the best of her ability had broken - penetrated by armor-piercing shells which ended up sending metal shrapnel into her side. She wasn't strong enough to restrain her emotions after all of this, after what she put herself and her team through, after rash decision making and panic in battle lead to this situation. If she was in this state, how worse off were Assam? Pekoe? Her driver, her radio operator, all of her other team mates? Who was to say that the Churchill was the only tank to suffer this fate in the battle? As far as she was concerned, this was all her fault, and she couldn't keep that much guilt in after all her fears had come to such a real and damaging head to everyone involved.

To display her weakness in this way so openly and so quickly to Victor of all people was something that may have seemed strange to the untrained eye, though the fact of the matter was that the fact that it was he himself who entered right then and there instead of a nurse or really just about anyone else that caused her to let the tidal wave of her emotional strain flow free all at once.

Darjeeling and Victor had a bond that certainly transcended the typical patient-doctor relationship. It was one that was formed somewhat out of happenstance and partially necessity, at least for one of them. Darjeeling had transferred to Saint Gloriana as a freshman, coming from a semi-wealthy family who sent her off to the school for her own betterment and in part due to her own input and wishes to go there. However, the change from a somewhat dependent young teenage girl living at home and attending a school on land getting sent off on her own for the first time to what was not only a boarding school but one that was on a ship and underway more often than not presented quite the series of obstacles.

For one, Darjeeling was a perfectionist and somewhat of an overachiever by nature. No matter what was on her plate or how much of it, she would do it all, do it to the best of her ability and then some, and do so all in a timely fashion. At home and at a traditional school was one thing, living on one's own and attending school was another. Especially after she picked up sensha-dou. Having an overfull plate filled with rather normal school responsibilities in addition to all the facets of living alone and being so far from home was something that took a lot of getting used to. When Darjeeling first transferred, it would've been apt to describe her as a bit of a nervous wreck. Shy, quiet, uptight and trying to please everyone and meet all of her own sometimes rather arbitrary high-standards.

Insomnia was a problem, not to mention the following negative effects that so much stress has on a person not at all used to such a thing. Thus, she paid a visit to the clinic to get some help in the form of a doctoral opinion and perhaps medication if it came to that. It was there that she would've first met Victor. He was in a somewhat similar situation to her at the time, having himself been transferred to Saint Gloriana from Pravda as a general physician, though his issues moreso consisted of the new setting and different staff organization and regime he now had to work under. The patient-doctor bond was immediately made, and made stronger by the fact that they were coming from somewhat similar places. Add onto that the fact that Victor was acting as a bit of a voice of reason to her somewhat neurotic tendencies and their routine followups to ensure that she was adjusting better and you'd certainly have something a bit beyond the norm.

Darjeeling didn't talk too much to anyone but Victor, mainly because he was her doctor, and she had no issues about being honest and straightforward with someone whose job it was to diagnose and fix her with information she gave. This proved to be the gateway to them becoming friends of sorts, though it was almost more accurate to describe the good doctor as somewhat of a father figure for the then-lost Darjeeling. He was her stabilization as she gradually adjusted to life on the ship. He acted as a guide and point of logical thinking to calm her concerns and answer her questions. It was from that starting point, and indirectly with his help, that she was able to transition from a scared young teenage girl out of her element to becoming a confident straight-A student who was also the commander of the school's sensha-dou team.

Though as she ascended to becoming perceived, both by herself and others, as such a strong and calm leader, she closed up somewhat. She wanted to shove the timid shy girl she used to be under the rug, toss it out the window, be rid of it and never feel or act like that again. She felt that such a progression was a step in the direction of maturity and evolution into the leader she was typecast as - it was a role she was going to fill to the best of her ability as long as she could!

Obviously the facade was a facade, even as much as the blonde-haired girl wanted it to be a reality, the actual reality was here where she was now - that guilty girl thinking she failed to live up to lofty standards, sobbing in the chest of the one person she had ever opened up to. She felt guilty about that, too. Shutting herself off from him and not taking the bait to open up to him and admit to her own mistakes, trying to keep it all pent up which is what ended up getting her here in the first place. At least as far as she knew or was concerned.

She wasn't exactly sure how long she was there crying, making practically no noise in the process save for the occasional soft gasp of breath. She wanted to stop this, to pull away and offer a smile, act like she was fine, but it was far too late for that, and she was far too weak to pull that off now. Even though she was well aware of that fact, it still didn't stop her from wishing she could. Soon she felt a hand on her head, brushing through her now unbraided and somewhat unkempt hair. She shivered, but didn't resist at all. If anything she felt more calmed by it - her unsteady breaths soon becoming manageable and her tears at least slowing.

She sniffled, and slowly moved her head back from the doctor's chest - her arms slowly sliding off of his back as she leaned back into the bed. She hesitated slightly as she felt his arms slipping off of her as well, though she continued moving back until her body was once again being supported by the bed. She did keep a grip on one of his hands, however. A gesture he returned of course, offering a smile as well.

"Seems you're more awake than you have been," he soon began. "How do you feel?" He asked, as if the tears his shirt had soaked up moments ago wasn't at least one good indication of the answer.

She gave a bit of a croak, and a squeak, before she cleared her throat - still glassy-eyed as she sniffled once more. Her vocal cords weren't exactly cooperating, especially given she was a bit choked up by this point. "F-Fah.. Fine..." She soon managed, taking another hard swallow, "All achey," she added.

"I'd imagine so, you had about fifty pounds of metal in the side of your torso when you were brought in," He said, motioning to her side with his free hand. "Cut open the bottom of your right lung, punctured multiple parts of your intestines and nearly impacted one of your kidneys." He elaborated, momentarily downcast before offering a small smile once more, "Supposedly when they got you you were still gripping your teacup even though it'd cracked in half."

Finally, Darjeeling smiled as well in spite of the tears still in her eyes, not having much memory of the direct aftermath of the event. "Hah, that's the Saint Gloriana way, after all..." She coughed, her voice certainly sounding quite scratchy and out of practice. "I imagine all this," she lazily gestured to her bandaged side with her right hand, "Is your handiwork?"

Victor maintained his smile, though it became somewhat less genuine as she pointed out her covered up side. His gaze began to shift around as he spoke after that though, seemingly keen on most things in the room but her face as his expression faded into a more downcast one once again. "Ah, you'll need to thank Doctor Tsukasa for all of that. I was deemed 'unworthy to operate' under suspicion that I wouldn't be able to work optimally... Something to the effect of me having been your designated physician since you got here and all," he said with an air of irritation and sadness. "Though she did do a good job, didn't she?" He said to try and lighten the mood somewhat, putting on a more obviously fake smile.

The blonde soon felt a tingle of discomfort in her chest at that news, her own expression quickly falling to one of similar negativity. "Oh, uhm- Yeah, she did," was all she could really bring herself to reply with. She couldn't very well imagine how that must've felt on him to not be able to operate in the first place, though she had a feeling that it stung quite a bit. "A-Ah, what about the rest of the crew of the Churchill?" She asked, both switching the topic and feeling her own anxiety on the subject starting to rise. Something mirrored by her heart rate, and thus the monitor above her beeped even more quickly.

Victor glanced up at the heartrate monitor, then down to her, before moving his free hand to the top of her head once more. "They're all fine. Scratched and bruised, and with some minor wounds, but they're all well and good now. You took the worst hit of everyone, followed by Assam and Pekoe, but even both of their injuries combined didn't come close to half of the metal that you got hit with." His hand then slid down to the side of her face and under her chin, gently gripping it before letting go.

The simple gesture of a hand atop her head once again caused a calm to wash over her almost immediately, especially when coupled with the good news that everyone was more or less okay - something that she was sure put them in quite a bit better of a place then she was if her injuries were so much more severe but she was already feeling as much better as she did. Though her mind quickly shifted to the next topic of note, "What about the match? Did we lose or-" She stopped herself, taking a breath as she thought back, "What... What even happened?" She asked more broadly, honestly not having a very clear memory at all of what lead her to this bed.

Victor's expression straightened, "The match was suspended and an investigation is underway to determine exactly what happened to cause you and your crew to end up with metal shrapnel embedded in your bodies. The running theory is that the safety systems on the Churchill failed in such a way to prevent the white flag to pop up even though your tank should have been counted as disabled. The bombardment from all the Pravda tanks who kept firing because of the lack of the white flag over-stressed the hull to the point where there was a rupture, though immediately following that there was a universal cease-fire ordered."

"So," she began weakly, "Kinda like what happened before, to Earl Grey..." she said simply, gaining a nod from Koveryn whose gaze had left her face.

"Almost exactly what happened to Earl Grey," he replied. "Even though there were been more measures put into place to counter such a thing like this happening again, but as a result of your match, Pravda specifically is also under investigation, and the whole tournament is on hold until the source of the problem is found and dealt with."

It was now Darjeeling's turn to nod, which she did, "Guess that's good..." She took a breath, then let out a heavy sigh.

"The JSF investigators are also wanting a full written recounting of events from you both of the actual catastrophic failure and the rest of the match before that to see if they can identify anything that could've caused the fault. Anything you noticed that seemed odd or out of place. I won't push you to write it now since you're just getting your energy back, but you should probably do it as soon as you're feeling able before you forget anything potentially important," he explained.

She nodded once again, "Right," she coughed, "Well if you could get me some water that'd be really nice," she requested.

The Russian nodded once himself, slowly parting from her to head for the door. "Victor-" She called as he grabbed the knob, causing him to pause and look over to her, "I think- I think we should talk. Patient-to-doctor, you know?" She said, as much as she was pained to do so. The part of her that knew she had shattered emotionally with her facade was starting to overwhelm the part of her that was in denial of the problem.

This gained a smile from him as he bowed his head, "Of course, we can talk as long as you like Commander," and thus he left for the time being.

Darjeeling was then left with her thoughts for the moment, she knew there was much to discuss, and she probably had a bit of a road to recovery ahead of her. Not only in regards to her physical state, but her mental one as well...


	10. Recovery

Darjeeling looked down into her cup of tea, staring at it with a slight frown as if it had just presented her with some bad news. Or potentially made a disappointing joke. The blonde took a deep inhale, soon looking up from the steaming, murky liquid to make eye-contact with the other blonde who sat opposite her in that small sun room. One of many in that hospital to allow patients to get a nice view of the outside while still of course being within spitting distance of an army of medical personnel to take care of them.

In Darjeeling's case, it was the most picturesque area she could conceive to interact with team mates and have talks with them given that she was one such patient who was restricted to hospital grounds. It had almost been a week, and while her healing was going well, the risk of her wound opening up again and causing severe blood loss was too great for her to even head home. Not to mention the internal damage that was still mending itself. She didn't like being restricted like this, forced into this position of perceived helplessness, but she had no choice.

Assam and Orange-Pekoe had the freedom to leave bestowed upon them a couple days ago, but they were both making the decision to remain behind with their commander until she too was in such a fit state. The sun room featured glass walls and a glass roof with a solid floor, being somewhat of a closed balcony. Darjeeling was sat on one of two settees, the two facing each other across the long axis of the room. To her right - and the opposite sofa's left - was the large floor-to-ceiling window view of a large chunk of Saint Gloriana's surface. It was certainly the appealing view, especially when compared to the drab and sterile white interior of the rest of that building which Darjeeling had become prisoner. Assam was sat beside Darjeeling on that settee, sipping her own tea while Orange-Pekoe opted to stand at her commander's right hand - tucked in the gap between the side of the settee and the window.

The orange-haired girl's hands were clasped together and hanging in front of herself, and she was also avoiding eye-contact with their visitor just as Assam was, and Darjeeling had been until now. The commander's eyes sharpened as they met the gaze of the one opposing them. There was Earl Grey, whose returning stare to Darjeeling was one of equal intensity. There was silence in the room for the longest time with the occasional sound of muffled seagulls beyond the windows of the enclosed balcony. It was as though the two commanders - current and prior - were having a staring contest. In a way they were, trying to see who would crack or blink first.

Earl Grey was an upperclassman to everyone else in the room. One year up of Darjeeling, and two of Orange-Pekoe and Assam. This potentially made the awkwardness of the two other crew members more warranted, especially given that Pekoe specifically had served under Earl Grey to begin with, and was somewhat a witness to the first incident which caused Earl Grey the loss of her leg and lead to Darjeeling's 'promotion' to her current rank. While the tone in the room was certainly thick and dense, neither Assam nor Orange-Pekoe quite knew what was bringing it up. All they knew for sure was that they should keep their mouths shut, and that's what they were quite happy to do for the moment.

"It's your own fault," Grey soon broke the silence.

Darjeeling squinted slightly as her brow furrowed, "How was I to anticipate that the safety systems would fail?"

The ex-commander shook her head, "Before that. If you hadn't gotten into that slaughter of one versus five, maybe you could have brought the game back. Instead you and your remaining forces played ring-around-the-roses with their flag tank and allowed their main force time to catch up. A poorer showing than Ooarai's barricade situation during their match," she ended before taking a sip of her own cup of tea.

Darjeeling's glare maintained, "Ooarai lost control of their tanks and were baited due to a failure to follow orders, they tried to end the match prematurely and fell into Pravda's bait trap. Early onset desperation is different from a justifiable attempt at clutching a victory. The bait we may have fallen for by Pravda was hardly as evasive as it was by design, it was merely bad luck that we were unable to eliminate it before the main force arrived."

"There is no luck in sensha-dou," Earl Grey was quick to reply. "Your shots failed to land," she glanced to Assam and back to Darjeeling again, "because your crews were lacking the proper morale. A failure to follow Saint Gloriana's prime principles is what lead to your downfall. 'Be elegant at all times and in all matters, act proper and ladylike no matter the circumstance.' Elegant and proper describes anything but your performances on the field. Something you should have rectified much sooner to ensure a clean, chivalrous victory."

The commander huffed, "I did all in my power to ensure that tensions were eased before the match. I think you'd agree that such a task is hardly easy considering how imaginations tend to run away with things, especially when similar events have come to fruition in the past." With that, Darjeeling allowed her gaze to drop to Earl Grey's prosthetic, before she let her eyes close for a moment while she enjoyed another few sips from her own teacup.

Ex-commander Grey twitched at that, her own brow furrowing as her head tilted downwards slightly. "I've taught you nothing, have I?" She asked simply, causing Darjeeling's eyes to open with a few blinks.

Her teacup then lowered back onto it's saucer held by her other hand. Eye-contact was maintained continually with her former commander as she requested "Assam, Pekoe, leave us for a moment please." A request that quickly gained the reply of eyes from both sides looking at her, before without a word her loader and gunner took their leave. Silence fell upon the room for a moment afterward before Darjeeling spoke once more, "You taught me too much."

That piqued one of Earl Grey's eyebrows as she tilted her head up once again to look straight-on at her prior sub-commander. However, she did not speak herself yet, instead allowing the other to continue.

"You taught me how to command in an elegant way, how to inspire troops. You shared your own experiences with battling various other schools and what their plans of attack and strategies tended to be. You told me where everything on the school campus was and even where your favorite places to go on the ship proper were. You even taught me how to easily braid and unbraid my own hair with this style," she said as she gestured her teacup to the aforementioned styling feature. "You're even arguably the main reason why I was accepted into the tea garden, and undoubtedly I would not be the commander here and now if it weren't for you."

Earl Grey was quick to speak up, "I took you under my wing as an apprentice, you're a good friend and I could tell you needed a bit of a push to start going places. Clearly I was right, how is that teaching you too much?"

"There's a difference between showing someone the ropes and molding them into a successor. You're the only reason I went as far as to do sensha-dou and end up as commander in your place, not to mention I got a more concentrated taste of the 'Earl Grey' style rather than the normal 'Saint Gloriana' style of directing one's self." The girl was almost scolding her prior commander at this stage.

Earl Grey's glare redoubled in intensity at first, but soon died down a tad, as if she was unsure of herself. "So what if I imparted some of my own habits on you or influenced you one way or the other? Are you going to blame me for your defeat and what happened to you and the crew as a result?" She said, still maintaining her own cool somewhat well, but the uncertainly creeping into her eyes was also starting to make its way to her voice.

"If you had to deal with all of the pre-match anxiety you would have had a similar outcome regardless. You hid your fear well through most of the battle but at the very end I could see it in your eyes. You probably didn't know at the time just how bad your injuries were going to be, but when you realized we were getting bombarded and the safety systems weren't working, and the shells kept on coming, I saw you crack before the hull did." Darjeeling said gravely, her eyes piercing daggers into those of the other commander as she refused to break contact.

Earl Grey swallowed, trying to give the same steadfast glare in return the best she could, but she was quickly coming to realize what she was getting at, and what this whole meeting was leading up to. "Are you going to leave me hanging here?"

"I want you to admit it," Darjeeling nearly cut her off to say - her stare as intense as ever. "You know just as well as I what your error was then, and how you passed it on to me without even trying to correct it."

That caught the woman off-guard, her eyebrows both getting thrown upwards slightly as her eyes widened and a dumbfounded expression washed over her for the moment. She swallowed and took a breath, "I take it you mean the whole 'emotional management' thing..." She mumbled and tapered off, eyes glancing to the side of the current commander's head.

"Yes the whole 'emotional management thing'," she repeated in an almost mocking tone. "For someone trying to set me up to be your successor, you certainly made sure that I inherited your fatal flaw without any way to counter it." Still, Darjeeling's gaze was locked securely to Earl Grey's face.

Earl Grey's brow furrowed once more, "I thought you were stronger than me! I didn't think I would shift something like that onto you, you seemed like you were just taking all I knew and made it better in your own way. Regardless, if I would've had more time, how do you know I wouldn't have gone over that with you?" She said with a considerable lack of confidence as her gaze fully left Darjeeling - her eyes looking down towards her fake leg before taking an interest in the tiled floor.

"I suppose we both have room for improvement then," She said simply, perhaps even with a tinge of kindness to her voice. Darjeeling didn't have any interest in just guilting Earl Grey, that would've been rude and pointless. Instead, this conversation was intended to help Darjeeling face the underlying problem she knew she had. By confronting Earl Grey, she was confronting herself. Her time in the hospital both alone in bed and in her own head was enough for her to realize that. At least with the help of that mysterious Russian plague doctor...

Going for another sip of her now nearly-empty teacup, Darjeeling wouldn't have noticed the rising gaze of Earl Grey once more. At least not for a moment. Lowering the now empty cup onto her saucer once more, Darjeeling would have greeted Earl Grey this time with a smile. "I know you've been getting better with things," Darjeeling continued, "Now as an apology, maybe you can help me get to where you are now, and I can help you get further."

Earl Grey seemed to have some degree of confusion on her face at first, though in time she may have come to understand Darjeeling's motive. Regardless, the commander had fully planned to use her own prior commander as a stepping stone - and a rather large one at that - to help her tackle her obvious issue. There was a key difference Darjeeling had over Earl Grey which made a full recovery, physical and mental, both attainable and required - Darjeeling was still able to participate in the sport once she was healed. This gave her an opportunity to bounce back that Earl Grey never had, and by god would she take it up in stride. Not just for her own gain, but on behalf of her former commander as well.


	11. Afterword

In the rather large open field in front of the Saint Gloriana tank storage hangars, some space was being taken up by that mess of a Churchill VII which, for lack of better words, was next to totally trashed. The turret had been removed given that it now had a giant gaping hole torn through it and was probably going to be too expensive and too much time to fix, though the inners such as the gun and loading mechanism and some of the radio equipment was getting salvaged. It was mainly the turret structure itself that was damaged, the actual components within not so much.

Darjeeling's legs dangled in through the large hole normally covered by that turret, her butt on the deck of the hull as she observed Orange-Pekoe and Assam within making various notes about the inners of the vehicle. Mostly about object conditions and if there seemed to be any damages. It was a task they assigned to themselves with Darjeeling's approval - somewhat of a therapeutic process to return to the 'scene of the crime' so to speak. The vehicle had been mostly untouched by anyone but them, save for the investigators that had come weeks prior to give the vehicle a full thorough examination to determine what went wrong, through it didn't take them too long with too much digging to isolate the source of the problem.

It had turned out that the collision from that charging Pravda tank trying to secure a quick-and-dirty flag tank kill of its own knocked something loose in the tank's onboard computer system, meaning that it couldn't accurately assess any damage the vehicle was taking, and by extension it never deployed the flag for surrender. An eerily similar event occurred during the last match against Pravda which forced Earl Grey out of sensha-dou. The similarities didn't go unnoticed by those assigned to investigate the matter, and pending punishment for Pravda with input of some key Saint Gloriana members was the result. Pending punishment being the key phrase, as the selected members of Saint Gloriana left to come up with a punishment were still considering exactly what they would want to inflict on Pravda. Said members were primarily the crew of the Churchill VII as they were the most strongly affected, though input from other members of Saint Gloriana was being considered.

"We could make Katyusha bow to us instead of the other way around," Darjeeling remarked jokingly.

"I think I heard Rosehip suggest that... But really, we have almost complete freedom over what their punishment should be, and this could be a bit of a rewarding moment to help everyone relax after all that stress before the battle," Pekoe replied. "Even if the battle finally being over is probably giving most of the team plenty of consolation."

"Making them pay for our repairs should be a given, the dent in the side of this Churchill and it's previous failing is probably a sign that this needs to be replaced or fully rebuilt at the least," Assam added. "Maybe while we're at it we could swap it out for something a bit newer, like a Centurion or something."

"Come now, Assam, what is the Saint Gloriana style without the conservative and well-thought maneuvers of an infantry tank like the Churchill? It's the best of its class anyway, after all," The commander replied before bringing her lips to the rim of her teacup.

"I assume that by 'conservative' and 'well-thought' you mean 'slow'," The brighter blonde remarked, eliciting a giggle from both of her present peers.

"We will have them pay for our repairs, I agree that's obvious enough, though only for the Churchill or its replacement. The rest of our team was defeated fairly." With that, she considered, glancing up into the pinkish sky as the sun was preparing to set on the horizon, filling the sky with a plethora of unique and gorgeous colors which never got old to look at.

Her train of thought was soon broken by Pekoe's head popping up out of the turret hole however, causing Darjeeling to quickly glance down at her. "Thermos please, commander," she requested, Darjeeling replying in kind by grabbing the aforementioned metal container of tea and handing it to her so that she could have a few sips from it directly.

"Maybe a rematch?" Darjeeling considered aloud, gaining a few blinks from her ginger-haired friend as she continued drinking for a moment more. "I doubt our troops will be terribly concerned after they've had this time after the battle to consider their own safety, and I'm sure the fact that we've found the root of the problem will make them further relaxed. A rematch with us at our top forms will help us all to regain our honor after what was admittedly a poor showing in the last match, regardless of the disaster," she continued.

"The jury is still out on who to give the win to. Obviously Pravda would have won even in spite of the safety failure, but promoting them to the next round of the tournament after doing what they did to us divided the judges," replied Orange.

"We can use our team being fearful as a citation for it being an unfair match to begin with," came the echoing voice of Assam who was deeper within the tank, "at least somehow. I don't think it'll take much convincing to have them give us a second chance at the tournament spot."

Darjeeling nodded, "That seems like a good set of conditions. They pay for our repairs and-or replacement of the Churchill, and we have a rematch for the tournament spot."

"We'll probably need to get more opinions from the other commanders to make sure they'd be okay with a rematch, but besides that I think we'd have a compelling case for something like that," Pekoe assured.

"So we're all in favor of those conditions?" Darjeeling asked.

"Aye!" "Yah!" She got two replies, before Orange-Pekoe placed the thermos down on the hull deck prior to going back into the metal monster.

Darjeeling would have been doing more than 'supervising', but in spite of her condition improving enough to where she could return home and even attend classes, heavy lifting of any sort or even very rigorous physical activity was off the table for a little while yet. Her internal and external wounds hadn't fully healed, and were still subject to opening up again if put under too much strain. This also exempted her from sensha-dou practice for awhile, not that there was much of that going on while everyone continued their various stages of recovery. Even if that tended to consist of curling up on the couch with a tub of ice cream with nothing else to do for most team members.

Once again the commander looked to the sky. It'd be dark soon, and they'd need to head home. The battle was over, the worst came to pass, but Darjeeling was feeling okay. There were still things that needed fixing, flesh and metal, and some would likely take awhile to heal, but Darjeeling felt ready to take care of that. It almost disappointed her, that all that fear and panic and sleepless nights were all for this. She hoped it to never happen again of course, but she sighed out as she kept her eyes on the gradually darkening sky above her.

A rematch to come, a tank to be repaired and potentially replaced, and all manner of wounds to heal. As she considered things for a moment, Darjeeling smiled and shook her head, going for another sip of her tea. Never a dull moment when you practiced sensha-dou.

 **[Author's addendum]**

 **Can you say 'clunky ending'? I sure can. Hello there reader! I've not yet addressed you through any direct means (or indirect now that I think about it) but I have compiled a long list of notes over my writing of this story that I wanted to share, so what better place to put them all then the very end?**

 **Right from the start I want to be clear that finishing this story, even as sketchy as I think it is, is a rather big deal for me. I've never planned well enough or had enough self-motivation or continued interest to be able to write a story beginning to end like this. It's a bit of a milestone given that I've been writing for over six years now on various sites and this story is one of a handful I'd say I've 'finished', and it's certainly the longest one without a doubt. That said it's still riddled with problems, at least from my perspective, and I'd like to vent about them here and now while I have your attention. Or not. You can head away now if you like, the words will still be here whether you read them or not! Regardless I'll be going through things on a chapter-by-chapter basis, and also give you some insight into some behind-the-scenes changing of the story which you may be interested in hearing. If not though, I understand.**

 **Chapter 1: Stupendously boring, particularly for one of my works. The atmosphere of a dry, pale, sterile exam room environment was put on too thick here I think. The biggest regret I have is the total lack of any hook which is more odd given that that's practically a personal signature of mine - a jump ahead or just... Anything more interesting than how this started! Beyond that though I'm pleased with how the chapter turned out. It establishes our main canon characters, my one addition who I'll talk more about later, and doesn't do much more than exposition which is what it's made for.**

 **Chapter 2: I'm more pleased with how this one turned out. We get to see here the lesser-known but technically canon character Earl Grey and what I've done to her for the story, as well as try and get some more mysterious exposition going (which I totally won't shove in your face and repeat throughout the story, nosir). Not much to say really, I'm pretty satisfied with what this all conveys and how it further serves to set things up.**

 **Chapter 3: In which we have Rosehip because everyone loves Rosehip including myself. This serves to try and do some more character building for Koveryn and cement him as a part of Saint Gloriana, implying past experience to good degrees with the students to make him more believable and fitting in this tale that he has been plonked in. This chapter also continues my trend of overt foreshadowing which is a repeating theme which I'm displeased with.**

 **Chapter 4: This is almost just here for pacing purposes, with continued minor implications as to Victor's past experience with the school and students there to, again, try and make him fit in more naturally as a member of staff as compared to some random OC that I added. Otherwise it's shown that tensions are ramping up which is another component of background goings-on which I probably put too much emphasis on.**

 **Chapter 5: My least favorite chapter and the main reason that I wanted to make this addendum noting all my issues with my own work. The problems I have with Chapter 5 started as kinda minor things when I first wrote it, but as the story changed and progressed and went in a much different direction starting with the next chapter, many components in this one start to fall apart. For one this chapter goes way off the rails and focuses far too much on Victor, something I wanted to avoid as much as possible because nobody does (or should) care about Victor too much. He's a supporting character and he's non-canon, I don't expect him to be liked and I don't want to use him in a way which would get him disliked. Beyond that, this chapter serves as a kindof big nothing due to, as I mentioned, changes in the story arc which occur from the next chapter onward. Many things this chapter sets up don't lead to anything due to these changes, primarily Victor's interaction with Nonna - which does serve some merit to place Koveryn as a natural character in this world, but had more unrealized purpose beyond that - as well as his 'call' he was going to make which sets up another thing that ended up being cut due to the focus change from Victor to Darjeeling in the next chapter.**

 **Chapter 6: In which I have a genius idea - swap Victor for Darjeeling as protagonist. As I said, too much focus on Victor is something I know is bad and shouldn't be done due to him being an original character which isn't very interesting or identifiable anyway. Going to Darjeeling on the other hand is a much better move for many reasons. She's already a canon character, she's probably more identifiable if for no other reason than how I write her and her situation, and her struggle and dilemma is just generally more interesting. At least to me. While I stand by the balance of including plenty of canon characters alongside Victor's lead earlier on in the story - Victor's overall view of many characters allowing him to view the gradual mass panic which was mounting - the switch in focus to Darjeeling is what should have happened in chapter 5 rather than the focus on Victor's excursion. Victor's purpose as a kindof overarching narrator to show the inner feelings of a few other key characters earlier on is done, and tapering off and swapping focus to Darjeeling is a great move that I should've used sooner.**

 **Chapter 7: The battle chapter. I'm not going to say I'm great at writing these in particular, or that it maybe turned out good or bad, but what I will say is that my whole process of putting this chapter together, planning the battle beforehand and then turning it into a summary before putting it on paper was long, time-consuming, exhausting, but also quite fun and satisfying. When I was done with this chapter, it was a rare moment in which I felt quite happy with my work - that I had done the best I possibly could have and that was good. Though it better have been for eight straight hours of work from starting planning to submitting the finished chapter.**

 **Chapter 8: This is a chapter whose entire purpose was modified from outline to publication. Originally, this chapter was to serve as a flashback sequence to a bit of a bonding moment between Darjeeling and Victor when they were both new to the school and Darjeeling was more of a shy introverted nervous girl. The father-daughter bond was to be shown not told here, but in part due to the change in focus from him to her and another large change for the post-battle which also occurred, this instead became this genuine trippy dream sequence. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I feel like I wrote it well enough, but I'm moreso unsure as to how well or not it fits thematically with the rest of the story.**

 **Chapter 9: In which one of the biggest changes in the story occurs. In the original outline for the story, Darjeeling doesn't very well make it through the battle - she's left in a coma of sorts while Victor goes off and does stuff. However, due to the change in character focus, and the fact that what Victor was planned to do was quite stupid and unnecessary, that was all cut and changed for Darjeeling being relatively okay after all was said and done. We also have a cheap fill-in of exactly what I was trying to avoid with the original plan for Chapter 8, but instead I failed and did the bad habit of 'telling without showing' which just makes the connection Victor and Darj have feel that much less natural and more forced. Not to mention the fact that I feel like I didn't very well emphasize the fact that it was a father-daughter type of relationship rather than something lewd, but it is what it is. (If you'd like some Girls und Panzer erotica let me know, wink wink.)**

 **Chapter 10: The last chapter that matters. I had writers block on this for the longest time given that I no longer had a workable outline, because as I mentioned the ending of the story dramatically changed from Darjeeling being in a coma with Victor being the focus to not at all. I had wanted to end the story on a bit of a sour note, with some issues resolved but not all. I dislike putting too tidy and neat of a bow on things to end with. The direction I ended up taking this chapter in is one I'm mildly pleased with but unsure about. Darjeeling arguing with Earl Grey was indeed supposed to be a kind of 'face your demons' moment, but I can't help to feel like it came off as it seemed - with Darjeeling just lighting up her former commander for next to no reason, hence my explicit telling of what I was aiming for.**

 **Chapter 11: The one you just read! As I said Chapter 10 is almost the last one that matters, but this one is intended to put a more proper cap on things. I don't really have many thoughts on it yet since I just wrote the thing, but I feel like there are worse ways to end a story. Lowkey sequel bait is another trademark of mine, but it really depends on you the reader if I do make a continuation of this. I don't have many ideas, so it'd take quite a bit of thinking. This story itself was technically in development for I wanna say over two years? I had the original idea for this and built it up over a long time, and only a few months ago did I compile an outline and decide to just go for it.**

 **So yeah, if you read through all of that then good lord you're a trooper, but I hope that this was somewhat enlightening or interesting. I'd love it if you could leave a review! Positive or negative I don't really care, I adore feedback in all forms! I hope you've enjoyed this mediocre tale, maybe I'll write something else Girls und Panzer related someday.**

 **For now, farewell~**


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